


The Sake of Momentum

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Brainwashing, Clones, Dystopia, Freedom Fighters, Impregnation, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a society that rose out of the ashes by using science to re-populate its workforce, two boys are created outside the regular mold. They're meant to serve a secret purpose. When an unexpected act of devotion throws those plans into turmoil, it takes courage--and help from a rag-tag gang of abolitionists--for Jensen and Jared to rise up and demand the freedom that they've been raised never to desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sake of Momentum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_j2_bigbang
> 
> All art by the wonderful mylifewithin--check out her Art Masterpost [HERE!](http://mylifewithin.livejournal.com/147292.html)
> 
>  

“And may all your brethren live long for us.”

There’s always a pause between Commander Richings’s signature goodbye and when the hologram shuts off. It’s in that pause that Ackles-1 likes to study the man’s face. 

The great commander is strong but wizened, as one would expect from the leader of all. His face is long, cheeks sunken in with age and the hardship of the world’s travails. His eyes—dark and deep in their sockets—radiate a sense of purpose, but without the softened glow of empathy.

Those eyes frighten Ackles-1, for they belong to the only father he will ever know.

“Lessons are done for today, little one,” Mother Tapping says as the hologram fades. She’s standing over his sleek metal desk, the only one there in the middle of the learning room. Her soft brown hair is up in a bun, and her smile is warm. Twin indentations kiss her cheeks.

“Thank you, Mother,” Ackles-1 replies, standing automatically and moving towards the door. Her hand just barely brushes the back of his head, and he leans into it.

“What did you learn today?” she asks, just as he is about to clear the doorframe.

“That we are special, Mother. That I am special.”

There’s a slight pause, before her lyrical voice is heard again, “That you are, little one. That you are.”

He walks down the hallway of the center—the _Home_ , as some of the others call it mockingly—curving automatically to the left to find the lunch room. Sometimes after a lesson, Mother Tapping will allow him to take his meal in his room, but she has been discouraging this behavior as of late. If only she knew half the reasons he prefers it that way.

The room is full when he enters it, the rush of noise filling his eardrums automatically from the bluster of activity. The entire Murray line is at their normal table dead center in the middle of the room, a few Hodges and one Welling sitting with them. The younger Palicki line is sitting in a neat row, their blonde hair in high pigtails as they sip from their cups of juice.

Ackles-1 scans the room, glancing quickly over the various Corteses scattered throughout the room, until his eyes land of Cortese-5. She waves him over to the corner table that she is sitting at, smiling brightly. Ackles-1 blushes at the attention she draws from the other Wellings sitting nearby, but he heads over to her and takes a seat quickly.

“Hey, _you_ ,” she says in greeting, bumping his shoulder with her own. Her dark eyes are crinkled up at the corner as she grins, and he can’t help but smile back at his only real friend.

“What are you eating?” he asks, peering over at the mysterious substance on her plate.

“Probably something rescued from Mommy T’s toilet bowl this morning from the looks of it,” she says with disdain, poking at the food product with her fork. 

“I think I will avoid the special then, thanks,” he says, shuddering. 

Dinwiddie-78, one of the staff duplicates, comes over and places a tray down in front of him. She raises one eyebrow as to say “just eat it” before heading off to her next duty. 

“Why do you get the pink apples? This is favoritism at its most blatant,” Cortese-5 protests with a pout, attempting to sneak her hand onto his tray to steal whatever she can get ahold of.

“Maybe because I’m not a brat who calls our Mother names and falls asleep during lessons,” he replies primly, but hands over one of the tiny pink fruits to her anyway.

“Who told you that? I swear 7 can’t keep his mouth shut,” she grumbles, glaring over at the Murray table at the back of Murray-7’s spiky blond head. 

There’s a tiny pang of something in Ackles-1’s belly at the reminder that the other duplicates get to study together, brothers and sisters united to learn about the glory of the State and the process that keeps it running. The process that they, as Duplicates, are a part of. An integral part, important and special. 

Ackles-1 is different, though. There are fifty-one Duplicate children in this wing of the center. The initial ten each of five different models and him. He is the only duplicate child who has only one of his kind, and it marks him as different in every way.

All of the others learn about their Originals from a young age. The Cortese line from a great and important geneticist, one of the pioneers of the process. The Murrays, from the scion of an important legacy family. Welling, from an All-Star athlete who was the most famous player of his time. Hodge, from a starry medalist from celebrated games from the past called “the Olympics.” And the little Palicki girls, all of seven years old, their Original a famous screen beauty renowned for her grace.

Ackles-1 has never been informed about his Original. His maker, his father. 

He remembers years back, when Cortese-5 came to him excitedly one day and told of how her Original won a Nobel prize. Neither of them really knew what that was, but it sounded important, and there was a proud puff in her chest when she told him. 

He had gone back to Mother Tapping and said to her, “Mother, who created me?”

Mother Tapping had bent down to peer into his face, her mouth curved up into a knowing grin. “The State did, of course.”

He had persisted then, because it was suddenly important. “But who do I look like? Why don’t I have brothers like the others?”

“You exist for all of us, little one. Put these selfish thoughts out of your head,” Mother Tapping had replied, standing to her full height, which had been much greater than his own at that time. Her voice was stern suddenly, and Ackles-1 had been afraid that he had angered her. 

She had tapped her finger against the “Ackles-1” stitched across his shirt, right over his heart. They did not teach the children to read, but they did teach them their numbers. So they would know, so they would remember. Not like they could ever forget.

He had put his hand over hers and felt the warmth of her skin for just a moment before she pulled away, leaving his hand touching only his designation. 

“That’s a good boy. Run along,” she had said.

Cortese-5 crunching the apple brings him back to the present. The look on her face is more thoughtful than it had been a minute ago, and he nudges her to get her attention. He pushes a lock of dark hair that has fallen into her face, and she smiles up at him.

“What are you thinking?”

She shrugs, but he can tell that there is something on her mind. “It’s next month, you know.”

“What is?”

“We turn sixteen.”

He huffs in a little breath. He knows that the date is coming soon, but it hasn’t been on the forefront of his mind because she never really talks about it. The Cortese line is nine months older than him, and he realizes with trepidation that the inevitable is coming his way soon.

“Are you guys excited?” he asks, trying to keep his voice calm because he can tell the conversation is darkening her mood. 

She barks a laugh and then looks away quickly. She looks almost scared, and it’s the first time he’s ever seen that emotion cross his friend’s face. It’s like suddenly and terrifyingly looking into a mirror.

When a duplicate reaches the age of sixteen, they go through a screening process and then it’s decided where they are going to go to—either to the Nursery or to the Factory. No one really knows what the screening is for, or what really lies ahead once they leave the Home, but there have been enough hushed whispers from the staff duplicates for the children to get an idea.

The last line to leave was a year before, when two of the Cohen models went one way and eight of the others went another. The looks on their faces as they were separated were devastating, and Ackles-1 feels suddenly lucky that he doesn't have brothers that he would have to leave in ten months time.

But then Cortese-5 looks up at him—her eyes dark and sad—and he realizes that the closest thing he has to a sister and a friend will be lost to him in much less time than that.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she says suddenly, putting the half-eaten fruit back down on his tray. Her fingers are sticky with juice, and she sucks on them absently. 

He swallows and puts his head down. They sit in silence for the rest of the lunch period.

“You can do better than that,” Worthy-94, the duplicate in charge of physical education, barks.

Ackles-1 clings to the rope hanging from the ceiling of the gym, his hands on fire as the fibrous material scraps into them. 

“Faster!”

Sweat beads at his forehead, and his chest feels tight as his breath quickens.

“Stop being so weak!”

He feels tears at the corners of his eyes, his head throbbing and the tinny sounds of laughter comes from the fellow duplicates below. 

“You’re holding up the rest of the class!”

A cry slips from his mouth as his hands slide off the rope and he falls, crumpling to the ground. Cortese-5 runs to see if he’s all right, cradling his head in her lap while two of her sisters and the coach come over to help.

“No wonder they only made one of you,” Murray-2 says from a few feet away, not even trying to be subtle. Two of his line snicker with him, and Ackles-1 buries his head in shame.

“That’s enough from you. Showers, now,” Worthy-94 hollers at the Murrays, who roll their eyes in unison and head towards the showers. 

“You okay, buddy?” Cortese-5 asks, her voice soothing as she strokes his hair.

He turns his head into the warmth of her belly, closing his eyes for a moment and letting himself be held. He knows that he’s different than the others, that there must be something wrong with him if his Original only thought he was good enough for one copy. It hurts every time to be reminded of that fact.

“You’ll do better next time,” Worthy-94 insists, shooing the other Cortese duplicates away and pulling Ackles-1 out of his cocoon. 

“Yes, sir,” he replies, eyes downcast as he starts automatically heading back towards his room. There is no way he’s going to shower anywhere near the Murray line right now.

“Hey, meet me in the cove in thirty minutes,” Cortese-5 whispers, running along side of him to catch up.

He nods in agreement, even though he wants nothing more than to go hide in his room for a couple of days with his sketchbook and colored pencils. He knows that he has to keep his body strong and healthy for the State, but he hates the days when they have gym. Especially since it’s the one class that he’s forced to take with all the others.

==

He washes quickly—too fast for the water to even get very hot—but then stands for a few moments in front of the small round mirror in his bathroom. His face is flushed red from the exertion and heat, the tiny dots spread lazily across his cheeks standing at attention. He runs his fingers over his mouth—lips a bit too plump—and the tip of his nose. He closes his eyes and feels his wet lashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks.

He wonders what it would feel like to look at another person and see yourself looking back. He said that to Cortese-5 once, asked her what it was like to see her face in all of her sisters’. She had told him that all she saw were their differences. The chime of Cortese-2’s laugh. The way Cortese-6 is ticklish if you hit the right spot on her ribs. The tiny scar on Cortese-4’s finger from where she cut her hand when they were ten.

“We’re different. Every one,” she had said to him.

Ackles-1 hadn’t been sure what to believe. Not when the voice of Commander Richings was in his ear telling him that it was as one blessed unit that they would salvage the world.

“Different,” Cortese-5 had repeated, her eyes glowing.

Fifteen minutes later, he is squeezing into a little alcove they had discovered a few years back tucked behind the smaller kitchen used only by the staff duplicates. Cortese-5 is sitting in it, back against the smooth metal surface of the wall, her legs crossed and a tattered manuscript in her hands. 

The duplicate children—as a rule—are not taught more than the alphabet. But the Cortese line has genius riddled throughout their DNA, and 5 has been patiently teaching herself to read the rudimental basics for the past six months. Dinwiddie-71 is sweet on her, and has managed to sneak her a few copies of contraband books from the outside.

“What’re you doing?” Ackles-1 asks, lowering himself down beside her and squeezing into the pocket of space.

She looks up from the book and smiles at him. He wonders if she really understands anything on the page, or if she’s just looking at the jumble and wishing it would soak into her brain through her fingertips. 

“Learning all I can before next week.”

He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them. His hair is wet, and it’s slightly chilly in the cove. “Maybe you can sneak them with you when you go?”

She shakes her head just a little bit, a small frown on her face. “Maybe if I end up in the Nursery, but you know the Factory-bound don’t get to take anything with them.”

He knows this to be true, although no one is quite sure why. The ones chosen to go to the Nursery are rarer, sometimes only one out of an entire line are sent there. Mother Tapping always says that everyone has a job to do and that no matter where they go, the State will be ever thankful for them.

“Maybe you’ll end up at the Nursery. You never know.”

“2 and 7 have been feeling down the past few days. Skin kind of itchy.”

He gulps, knowing what that means. Most of the time, the ones chosen for transport to the Nursery start to get a fever the week before their sixteenth birthday. It’s not always the case—Cohen-3 didn’t show any symptoms before he left—but it’s always a good indication. 

“Remember the Balaban line? They sent five to the Nursery,” he points out, trying to be helpful. But she just puts down the book carefully on the ground and leans her head against his shoulder.

“We don’t even know if that’s any better,” she says, her voice a whisper. It’s weird seeing someone as usually outgoing and fiery as her so quiet.

He swallows hard, not knowing what to say. None of them know what life is like for the duplicates when they leave these walls, so supposition is pointless. The best thing to do is to tell oneself to be brave and true and know that the State will do right for the blessed among it.

They sit in silence for a few long minutes, her warmth bleeding into him and keeping out some of the chill from before. Her hair is soft where it brushes his cheek, and reminds him of what home should feel like.

“I wish I was going with you,” he murmurs. He’s scared of what his life will be like without her, without the small morsel of companionship they allow each other. 

He’s also scared of what his life will be like when he’s in her shoes.

She slips her fingers into his, and squeezes. It’s enough—knowing that she’s there—even if only for the moment.

“We wish you great tidings in this next phase of your journey. May it be one of honor, of bravery, of depth of character, and of strength. You as a collective unit are the blessing of this great State, and together you will keep us in prosperity and happiness for many years to come.”

The hologram flickers on Commander Richings’s face, one last moment of solemnity in the angles of his cheekbones. The image is large, covering the entire wall in the auditorium where the duplicates assemble together for ceremonial events like the one that is currently happening. 

The Cortese models stand in a perfect line in the front of the collected children. Their hair down—sleek and brown—and parted in the middle and exactly like their sister’s next to them. The numbers on their chests are in red stitching now, different from the black of the rest of the children. 

One would never notice the tremble in their hands if one wasn’t looking for it.

Ackles-1 closes his eyes for just a moment when he sees it.

Mother Tapping stands before them. Her hair is twisted into tight braids like a halo, and her dress is as long and yellow as the sun that they’ve seen only in images. It’s the dress she wears only on the days of the crossover, and Ackles-1 wonders if she chooses a gown so cheerful in order to soothe the inevitable sense of loss in those left behind.

“This is not a farewell, but a rebirth,” she announces, her arms spread wide. The indentations in her cheeks must hurt from their depth as she smiles.

She heads down the line, placing a hand upon each duplicate’s cheek. 

“Thank you, Mother,” each intone as the touch fades from their skin.

Mother Tapping reaches Cortese-5—the last in the series of her line. Cortese-5 tilts her chin up, her eyes glowing fierce with what Ackles-1 recognizes as defiance. 

She must hate that middle part. Hate that red stitching. Hate that Mommy T can touch her with a feigned tenderness that she doesn’t seek. 

Ackles-1 sees all of that in the tilt of his friend’s chin. But as Mother Tapping brushes her palm across her cheek, Cortese-5’s eyes flutter closed, and her shoulders slump in defeat.

“Thank you, Mother,” Cortese-5 says, because ritual is important.

Soon the entire line is being led out by three Dinwiddie duplicates, probably to be prepared for their final transport. Mother Tapping tells the remaining children that they have the rest of the day free and dismisses them. 

Ackles-1—a sense of loss overwhelming him suddenly—runs to the cove in an attempt to lessen it.

He is not there more than ten minutes before a clattering of footsteps brings his head up and to attention. His eyes widen as he sees his friend staring back at him.

She drops to her knees in front of him. Her hair is messier than it was during the ceremony, and it’s such a familiar sight that he wants to reach out and touch her face just to remember it better.

She pulls the secret compartment from the wall where she has her treasures hidden, and takes out one of the more battered looking paperbacks. She holds it up to him, and he sees a title that he can’t read in bright, rainbow-hued colors. A picture of a laughing infant is in a circle in the middle of the cover. 

“I don’t know what it means,” he says, knowing that they don’t have much time but wishing that he instinctively understood.

“It’s a book of names,” she tells him, her voice wavering in a way he’s never heard. “It’s from before the Plagues, before the Wars. When people would have children of their own that they would raise and love and name. They would _name_ them.”

Her voice is edging towards hysteria as she starts flipping madly through the pages. Halfway through she stops, her finger pressing against the ink so hard that the tip of it grows white. 

“I have a name.”

“I don’t understand,” he says, flustered.

She holds the book up to his face, willing him to see. “I have a name. Here, it is. This is mine, not theirs. Mine. I chose this.”

Finally, he sees. He takes the book from her, closing it gently, and putting it down on the ground next to them. 

“Tell me your name.”

Tears trickle down her cheeks. “Genevieve.”

“Genevieve.”

She chokes back a sob. He’s never seen her cry and knows he never will again.

“Genevieve,” he repeats, holding her to his chest. 

“It’s pretty, right? My name,” she whispers, wet eyelashes, damp cheeks, and swollen lips pressing against the number on his chest.

“It’s the most beautiful name in the world.”

Heavy footsteps signal someone in the hallway. They pull back from each other with a gasp, knowing they have only moments if they don’t want to be caught.

She wipes the tears off her face, and an odd sense of serenity overtakes her countenance. “I’m being sent to the Factory. I don’t know what that means, but I know who I am.”

She picks up the book and presses it into his hands. He clutches it to his rapidly beating heart.

“Be someone,” she says to him as she stands. She’s backing up, and soon she’ll be out of his life forever.

“Genevieve,” he says again because he doesn’t have any words left.

She smiles at him one last time, and then is gone.

==

The next day, the new replacement line comes in. Little girls, perhaps three or four years old, their hair in perfect matching pin-curls. 

One comes over to him in the lunch room where he is sitting in the corner, alone and ignored by the rest. Her shirt says McCoy-5 in black stitching. She tugs on the leg of his pants.

“Hello,” he says, simply.

Her eyes are dark and wide and for the briefest moment, he remembers being that age with another little girl.

“Hello,” she replies, grinning. She’s missing a front tooth. 

He gives her his applesauce and turns around until she gives up and leaves.

The next nine months are a lonely existence. The others leave him alone, knowing it is pointless because all of their times will soon be up. Sometimes he thinks he would forget how to speak if he didn’t greet Mother Tapping every morning.

He spends a lot of his free time in the cove, running his fingers over the edges of the books that Genevieve left behind. He can make out letters, but his useless brain can’t quite put the pieces together to tell him what they mean. He holds on to them though—as a keepsake of his only friend, and as a strange hope that one day he’ll be someone as well.

==

He wakes up one morning—four days before his sixteenth birthday—with what feels like a layer of fire coating his skin. He moans from the sensation, sweat trickling down his temples, beyond his chin, and down the length of his neck. It’s like tiny insects are dancing under his skin, pushing from underneath the flesh in a valiant attempt at escape.

Dinwiddie-75 finds him like that when she comes to change his sheets in the late morning. The ones underneath him are soaked with perspiration from the terrible heat inside of him, and he’s writhing in pain. She runs to Mother Tapping, who comes quickly and sits down at his bedside.

“Looks like it’s time, little one,” Mother Tapping says, smoothing her hand across his reddened forehead. He barely feels the needle that slips into his arm as blackness overtakes him.

==

He comes to later, blinking his eyes against the harsh light of the medical suite he’s lying in. A pill is being pressed to his tongue by McNiven-49—the nurse duplicate. He coughs at the dry object, and she shushes him and holds a small cup of water up to help ease the way.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice rough with disuse. The fire is still raging in him, but it’s softer now. Farther away like a shadow of what it once was.

“You’re going through puberty,” the nurse says, pushing him back down firmly when he tries to sit up.

“I don’t understand,” he says, the words not sinking in. 

“Your body is preparing itself for the next step in its evolution,” she explains, although it’s not a particularly thorough explanation.

All it’s telling him is that he knows where he’ll be four days from now.

“I’m going to the Nursery, aren’t I?”

McNiven-49 smiles, her face lovely but eyes shuttered. “We all have to start somewhere.”

He takes the mysterious pill four times a day. Along with ice baths daily, his fever manages to abate. There’s an odd floating sensation inside of his head, clearing only at intervals when everything that is soon to happen comes rushing in. The fear is sharp and bright in those moments.

None of the other duplicates come to his room over the course of the next four days to say goodbye. The one time he makes it into the lunch room, a few of the Palicki girls glance over at him with shy smiles on their young faces. Hodge-2 looks like he might say something, but Murray-3 glares at him. There is only silence.

It doesn’t really matter to him. Genevieve is gone, and there is nothing to tie him to this place. He’s not sure that the Nursery will be any better. Any sense of home he felt for this building that he has spent almost the entirety of his life in left when she walked out the door. 

He spends an hour each day watching Commander Richings on the hologram. He speaks to Ackles-1 of honor and duty, his words like poetry in his deep, melodic voice. The content is new and obviously saved for those with the fever. Their bodies changing instinctually at the same time that the words are meant to mold their minds.

It’s strange to stand up there alone during his farewell ceremony. He’s staring out into the audience, and it’s a sea of monotony. Face after face in a row staring back at him with the same expression. 

Maybe Genevieve was wrong. Maybe none of them are unique at all. 

The duplicates look back at him like one monolithic mass, and his eyes are closing before Mother Tapping and her bright yellow gown even stand in front of him.

Later, he sits on his bed for the very last time. Mother Tapping comes into the room and sits down next to him.

“You’re one of the chosen, little one. You and your kind will help us keep this world full and alive.”

He nods. The words are familiar from where they poured from Commander Richings’s thin, pale lips.

“And maybe if you’re lucky, one of the Originals will let you carry a real baby for them. Isn’t it wonderful? Having all of that trust given to you?”

He looks up at that. _Baby?_

It reminds him of the book tucked in a hidden pouch in the one bag he is allowed to bring, and suddenly it’s very important that someone acknowledge him.

“Can I have a name, Mother?”

He clings to the skirt of her yellow dress, fingers bunching in the fabric. It’s like grasping sunshine, light and spark and life.

“You already have one, Little One,” she says. “One.”

He can feel the color drain from his face at the realization that what he thought was an endearment his entire life was anything but. 

“Your name is One.”

He blinks himself awake and finds himself staring up at a ceiling painted a pale yellow. It reminds him of Mother Tapping, and he has the briefest moment when he forgets where he is and thinks that he’s still back at the only home he’s ever known.

It takes him a moment more to feel the flutter of chilled air over his skin, and he realizes he is no longer wearing a shirt. He moves to sit up, but there is a leather strap pulled snug against his torso, inhibiting his range of movement.

“Help!” he calls out, straining his neck to see if anyone is in the room with him. No one is and he tries calling one more time.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” A woman with dark hair and bright white teeth comes rushing into the room. Her hands are covered with plastic gloves, and she’s carrying a pan of some kind of liquid.

“Help me, please,” he tries again, thinking that there must be some mistake. He’s a good boy, has never struggled. There’s no reason to punish him now.

The woman places the pan down on a little table next to the bed he’s strapped down to and then turns to him. Her eyes are kind, and he finds himself relaxing just a bit. There is no number on her shirt. Unless the rules of this place are much different than any other, she is likely not a duplicate.

“I know it must be a little scary,” she says, her mouth curling up into a small smile. She touches his face with her hands, and he cringes back when the plastic touches his skin.

“Is this the Nursery?” he asks, hoping that she will be able to tell him something of his current situation.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she replies, tsking a bit. She dips her gloved hands into the pan and takes out what looks like a sponge.

“What are you going to do to me?” 

“Just going to clean you up a bit. Get you all sparkling and new before the doctors come in.”

She grabs a hold of his arm and brings the sponge down, water running in rivulets into the crook of his elbow. She’s firm but not harsh—long strokes wiping with a clinician’s purpose over his torso. She brushes over his nipples, and he can’t help the long moan that comes out of him.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters out, mortified. He’s never felt a sensation like that before. Combined with the low-grade fever under his skin, he’s terrified at what is happening to him.

“It’s okay, kid. Don’t be ashamed. It’s just the urges kicking in. We’ll get your medication adjusted and knock those right out of you,” she replies, smiling again like it was the most natural thing in the world for his nipples to ache at the slightest touch.

He tries to stay as still as he can as she finishes her washing, trying in vain to stop the trembling in his shoulders.

“There we go,” she announces, plopping the sponge back in the pan with flourish and leaning over to grab a soft towel to pat down his skin. She looks pleased with herself, so he attempts another question.

“You said doctors before…am I sick?”

She snaps off her gloves and pats his damp arm. “Nothing like that. The docs have to check you out to make sure you are ready to start the process.”

“What process?”

She pats him again and brushes a strand of hair off his forehead. “Better to leave that to the big shots, okay? You be a good boy. Do everything they tell you, and you’ll make everyone happy.”

He swallows hard and looks at her with pleading eyes. “Will I be happy?”

She takes a few steps back and frowns for just a moment before plastering the smile back on her face. “Of course you will. Making the State happy will bring us all fulfillment and joy.”

It’s not what he wants to hear, but exactly what he expected in reply.

Her hand is on the doorknob before he calls out one more time. “Will I see you again?”

She turns slowly and her smile this time is more genuine. “You can count on it.”

“What should I call you?”

“I’m Nurse Sampson.” She pauses, seeming to decide something before speaking again. “But you can call me Cindy.”

He lies there for long minutes, the time ticking by slowly. His body is still trembling slightly, even though Nurse Cindy left the towel covering his bare flesh. He stares at the ceiling, imagining the yellow is the sunshine and he is lying in a field of flowers like the pictures in one of Genevieve’s books. He can feel the warmth on his face, and he convinces himself it is the light and not the strange and mysterious fire throughout his body.

The daydreaming stops working after a while, and the fear creeps back in. In the home they had medical examinations twice a year, and they were never a big deal. The duplicates rarely get ill, which is why the fever striking them is such an odd and unknown occurrence. If anything happened—like when Murray-4 broke his arm acting like a fool on top of the lunch table one day—the McNiven duplicates would fix them up, and things would progress as normal.

He scrunches his eyes closed and thinks hard about what Mother Tapping had said to him before he left the home. He remembers being on the bed, remembers her hand on his cheek, and the horror in his mind when he realized that she might not care for him as much as he thought she did.

Then he remembers another needle and more darkness, until he woke up here in this chilled room with nothing but silence to keep him company.

Mother Tapping had spoken of a baby. He knows that most duplicates suspected that the place where they went after they turned sixteen would determine their place in the world. Some thought perhaps that they would end up at a vocational school. They called the place he is currently in the Nursery, so perhaps he would be trained to care for children of the Originals. 

Mother Tapping called him lucky, and said he would be trusted. Listening to the rumbles of the staff duplicates while he sat hidden in the shadows, he knew that children in this world were a rare commodity. He wasn’t quite sure how the State was dealing with that. But Commander Richings is wise, and surely they have systems in place to help the human race survive.

Yes, that’s all. The doctors just need to make sure that he is healthy and fit so that he can learn to care for the children of the future. His heart is kind and pure. He can be trusted.

He doesn’t realize he’s mumbling the words aloud until the door opens and a man’s deep cough interrupts his utterings.

“Hello.” The man stands at in the open doorframe, face neutral. His hair is dark blond and gelled into a wave, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses sit primly on his nose. He’s wearing a white coat and holding a metal clipboard to his chest.

“Hello,” Ackles-1 responds, voice tight with instant fear when he sees the bulky man with the neatly trimmed beard standing behind the man with the glasses.

“I’m Dr. Pellegrino,” says that man, coming into the room. The bearded man follows him in—shutting the door firmly behind him—before heading towards the bed.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Ackles-1 pleads, trying to make himself smaller but hindered by the leather strap around his torso.

“Don’t be silly. Ty won’t hurt you. He’s just going to take that off so you can sit up,” Dr. Pellegrino informs him. His voice is calm and flat, but it doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

The bearded man—Ty, it seems his name is—heads over to the bed, pulling off the towel Nurse Cindy had draped on him and quickly unbuckling the leather. Ackles-1 instinctively brings his arms up to cross across his chest, shielding himself as best as he can.

“Be a good boy now, and sit up for me,” Dr. Pellegrino instructs, nodding at Ty as if to direct him to help. Ackles-1 is weakened from the medication and lack of movement, and only hesitates for a moment before allowing Ty to lift him into a sitting position. 

The doctor just looks at him with bemusement for a moment before glancing at his clipboard and then setting it down on the nearby counter top. He heads over to Ackles-1 and stops just short of the bed, looking down at him with a slight smile.

“I just wanted to come welcome you personally to our facility and do a few quick tests,” Dr. Pellegrino says. Ackles-1 pauses for just a moment before nodding his consent. The doctor pulls out a small device with a glowing light at the end and holds it up to Ackles-1’s face. 

“Open up,” Dr. Pellegrino instructs. Ackles-1 drops his mouth open tentatively and Dr. Pellegrino peers inside. The doctor hums a bit before doing the same to his ears, nostrils, and eyes. He then puts the device back into his pocket.

“That’s good. Let’s feel your abdomen. Lie down for me one more time and breathe normally.”

He hesitantly complies, and stutters a little gasp as cold, bare hands touch the skin of his belly. Dr. Pellegrino methodically palpates his stomach, pressing in at certain spots and lightly grazing over others. After a minute, he seems pleased and pulls back. Ackles-1 wraps his arms around himself again, trying to regain his composure and fight the chill.

“We’re going to keep you in isolation for the first week. Nurse Sampson will attend to you in your room, and you’ll have everything you need to settle in,” Dr. Pellegrino says, turning around to write something onto the clipboard.

Ackles-1 feels his heart beating hard in his chest. “Am I sick? Is that why you are keeping me separate from the others?”

Dr. Pellegrino turns back—glasses slid to the tip of his nose—and gives him a half smile. “No, you’re just fine. Perfect really.”

“Then why?”

Dr. Pellegrino makes a displeased noise. Ackles-1 almost feels ashamed for asking this man—who is clearly a person of authority and must be busy—so many questions.

“We need to get your medication regulated. All those strange feelings inside of you need to get fixed up so that you can prepare to do your duty.”

Goosebumps break out on his skin, and he wishes he had a shirt or a blanket to cover himself. “I don’t understand, Doctor. What’s my duty? Mother Tapping didn’t tell me.”

Dr. Pellegrino’s face hardens just enough for Ackles-1 to suck in a sharp breath. “Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”

Ty snickers from the corner, and Ackles-1 looks down, shamed and frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pellegrino.”

“It’s all right. Once you get settled in, you’ll be just fine. The glory of your service will keep you content.”

“Doctor?” 

Dr. Pellegrino nods to Ty again, and his final words are without a doubt final. “Ty here will take you to your room. Rest a little. You must be weary from your journey.”

Ackles-1 wants to say something to the effect that he’s already slept for who knows how long, and not by his own choice. But the doctor is already walking out of the room. Ty tilts his head at him in a stiff gesture, and beckons for him to follow. 

Ty walks briskly down the long hallway, similar enough to those of the home, but somehow colder and more intimidating. Ackles-1 has to rush to keep up with him, his legs still weak from rest and his joints stiff from being strapped down. He’s still half bare, and he hopes that no one sees him before he can recover his modesty and clothe himself.

Luckily for him, the hallways are dead quiet. After what feels like an endless pathway without seeing one living soul, they end up in a door tucked away second to last at the end of a corridor. Ty swipes his palm over the electronic pad outside the door and the mechanism of the lock clicks open. The sound is loud after the silence of the last several minutes, and Ackles-1 shudders.

“Here you go,” Ty says, gesturing at the single bed in the middle of the room. The furniture is spare and stark, but he is used to that from the home. It’s almost a comfort to see such monotony.

“Thank you,” Ackles-1 says softly, and Ty nods in acknowledgement.

“Nurse Sampson will be by in an hour to check on you. Don’t give her any trouble, and you won’t get any trouble from me. You hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right then. Be good,” Ty says finally, heading back out and closing the door securely behind him. The sound of the lock is heard again, and it sounds even louder this time. More final.

He lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and rushes over to the small dresser against the wall. Inside are several shirts, all the same—white cotton with his duplicate designation stitched across it in red. He sighs with relief as he pulls one on. He’s thankful to be dressed again, even if he is all alone in the room. There’s a security about it, and he doesn’t feel quite as vulnerable as he did when he was strapped down to that table.

His hands start shaking as he sees the small duffel bag he was allowed to bring from the home when he left. It’s sitting on the floor next to the dresser, and he lowers himself down to the floor to open it. He hopes with everything he has that the secret compartment stitched into the bottom of the bag hasn’t been found.

His fingers touch the worn cover of the book that Genevieve had shoved into his hands as her final wish, and an overwhelming sense of relief fills him. He leans his head down until his forehead is touching the bag, finally allowing himself to cry.

It’s later on the next day, after Nurse Cindy delivered his lunch, when he hears it.

Three knocks, in quick succession. Followed by silence for two beats, and then three more knocks.

“Hello?” he says to the air, not sure if the knocking is intentional or if he’s finally gone crazy once and for all.

The knocks get faster then—definitely showing a pattern—and Ackles-1 jumps up from his seat on the bed and starts looking around the room frantically. 

“Hello?” he says again, trying to get any indication of where the noise is coming from.

The knocking stops, and his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s terrified of who the person might be, yet even more terrified that the individual might go away and leave him all alone again.

“Don’t go!” he calls out, and he knows his voice is shaking but he doesn’t care anymore.

“I’m here.” The voice is faint, but solid, and the relief that washes over Ackles-1 is profound.

“Where are you coming from?” he says as loudly as his voice will carry, looking around in anticipation.

“From the vent. Look down!”

“From the…” he mumbles, rushing around the room until he sees the small air vent in one corner of the room hidden behind one side of the dresser. He drops to his knees and presses his face to the vent. He knows it’s stupid. He doesn’t know who the voice belongs to, and this place is so strange and unknown that he could be risking himself by putting himself so close. But it doesn’t matter, it’s a person, contact, someone calling to him, and he can’t possibly resist it.

“I’m here,” Ackles-1 says, face so close that his mouth almost touches the metal of the grating as he talks. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here!” the voice responds. It’s clearer now, obvious excitement coloring it. “I can’t believe someone is actually there.”

“I got here yesterday. Have you been here long?” Ackles-1 asks. He’s deeply thrilled that there is someone actually speaking to him, and possibly in the same situation as he is in.

“Three days. Longest three days of my life.”

Ackles-1 huffs a laugh. “I know how that feels.”

The voice pauses for a second, but then thankfully continues. “Are you a dupe, too?”

“A what?” Ackles-1 asks, confused by the lingo.

“A dupe,” the voice repeats. “A duplicate. What do you guys call us where you’re from?”

Ackles-1 flushes, inordinately pleased that the boy—for the voice is definitely masculine, but sounds young—seems to be one of his kind. “I guess we were a little more formal than where you’re from.”

The boy laughs, and it’s the best sound that Ackles-1 has heard in months. “Yeah, probably. Our staff dupes were all Carlsons. I think they were stoned half the time.”

Ackles-1 is happily scandalized. “I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds like it would be fun.”

“So are you? A dupe, I mean?”

Ackles-1 pauses before answering. Obviously the boy is like him…well as like him as he can be, since he doesn’t have any duplicate brothers. “I am. Just turned sixteen, and sent here.”

“Me, too! Just turned.” The voice is excited again, and Ackles-1 finds himself pleased that he managed to do that. “Did any of your other models end up here as well?”

His heart drops to the pit of his stomach. This is the part where things will all go wrong, when the boy will find out that Ackles-1 is all alone and figure out that there must be something wrong with him.

“I’m a one,” he says softly, his voice lowering to a mumble. Half of him hopes that the boy can’t hear him.

“What did you say?”

Ackles-1 sets his chin and raises his voice. It’s the boy’s loss if he chooses to judge him over this. 

“I said that I’m a solo one. There are no others in my line.”

A startled gasp comes clearly through the vent, and Ackles-1 sits back against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and willing himself not to react. 

It’s several seconds of silence, and he’s beginning to think that the boy is not going to respond at all.

“So am I.”

The words comes softly, and Ackles-1 throws himself back against the vent to hear better once more.

“What are you?” he asks, not believing his own ears. 

“I’m Padalecki-1. And I’m all alone.”

Ackles-1 squeezes his eyes shut and slips his fingers through the holes in the vent, clutching on to the metal like he was holding flesh.

“We’re not alone anymore,” he says and he swears that the sound coming through the vent sounds like crying.

Ackles-1 wakes up with a strange itching sensation on the back of his neck.

He jumps up from the bed—barely rumpling the pristine sheets—and heads towards the tiny round mirror hanging on the wall over the dresser. He tries to crane his head, but the position is awkward, and he can’t make out what’s there. He rubs it absently and heads back to the bed to await the arrival of breakfast.

Right on time, Nurse Cindy comes in fifteen minutes later carrying a tray with a selection of fruit, plain yogurt, and wheat toast. If he didn’t know better—and it's possible he doesn’t—he would think they have him on a diet of some sort.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, setting the tray down on the little table in the corner of the room where he takes his meals. She starts unfolding the napkin on the tray, and nods her head, beckoning him to come sit and eat.

“My neck is itching,” he says, not sure she can do anything about it, but figuring she is his only resource at the moment. He heads towards her slowly, sitting down in the chair at the table and staring down at the not altogether appetizing meal.

She hums a bit and heads behind him, running her fingers smoothly around the nape of his neck. “It’ll do that for a few days while it heals.”

His heart rate speeds up. “Heals?”

“Yes, the marking chip. It’s a simple procedure, nothing to concern yourself with.”

“What’s it for?”

She doesn’t bother looking at him as she spreads the napkin across his lap for him. 

“Identification, of course,” she replies. Finally she looks up, meeting his eyes for just a moment before looking away again. “It only activates if you leave the premises. Don’t want you to get lost.”

He’s suddenly not very hungry, but he picks up the toast and chews a bit of the end as the thought that someone—Dr. Pellegrino, maybe—implanted something in him to _track_ him.

Like he would run away.

Like there was going to be a _reason_ for him to run away.

He puts the toast back on the table and wipes his fingers across the cloth on his lap.

“I brought you something,” Nurse Cindy says suddenly, breaking the slightly tense silence in the room. He looks up at her and sees her smiling as she takes a pad of paper and a pack of colored pencils out of a pocket in the apron she has tied around her waist. She puts them down on the table next to the tray and looks at him expectantly. 

“How did you know I like to draw?” he asks slowly, reaching out to trace his fingers over the multi-colored sticks.

“It was mentioned in your profile. I thought it might help with the boredom while you’re in the quarantine stage,” she replies.

He wonders briefly who wrote the profile, and how in-depth it is. Does it have his favorite foods? Does it mention Genevieve? Does they know any more of his secrets?

“Thank you,” he says softly.

Nurse Cindy appears pleased, and pats him briefly on the arm. “You’re quite welcome. And don’t worry, once quarantine is over, then you’ll get to meet some of the others. Just be a good boy, take your medication, and everything will be all right.”

He glances back down at the tray, just now noticing the little white cup with one blue pill and one red. It makes him uneasy, but the pills have been managing to tamper the fever inside of him. He’s thankful for that small mercy.

“You’re not a duplicate, right?” he asks, not knowing why. She has a name and not a number designation. But this is a strange place, and he’s not sure what is up and what is down anymore.

“No, of course not,” she tsks. “Duplicates don’t have security clearance for this facility.”

He’s definitely not sure what _that_ means, and he finds that he’s still tired enough from his slumber to not care to find out. 

When she sees that he’s not going to ask any further questions, she gives a quick nod and heads towards the door. “I’ll see you for lunch,” she says, and then is swiftly gone, the lock clicking shut once more.

“Is she gone?” The voice comes through the vent. 

Ackles-1 runs hurriedly over, dropping to the floor and clutching his legs to his chest.

“She’s gone,” Ackles-1 replies, excited that the boy seems to want to talk to him for a second day in a row. Of course, there isn’t much competition at this point, but he’s trying not to be greedy.

“Man, I hate fruit,” the boy grumbles. Ackles-1 laughs, delighted. It’s all just so _normal_ and he can’t help feeling like he’s bursting with it. Okay, well as normal as things can be while conversing with a stranger through an air vent.

“Nurse Cindy brought me some stuff to draw with. I thought that was pretty nice,” Ackles-1 points out, rubbing his thumb over the knee of his sleep pants.

“Must be nice having one of the big shots sweet on you,” the boy replies, his voice teasing.

Ackles-1 laughs. He can feel himself blushing, even though he’s all alone in the room. “I don’t know about that. Did she bring you anything to help pass the time?”

“No, I had that Ty guy this morning. I swear, it’s like he thinks the world will end if he smiles or something.”

“He is kind of mean looking,” Ackles-1 giggles, putting his hand over his mouth as if he’s embarrassed by the sound.

“I think he’s just mad that I’m taller than him.”

Ackles-1 swallows hard, and there’s a weird tingling sensation in his belly at the thought of what the boy must look like. Ty isn’t a small guy. So if his new neighbor is taller than him, then he must have shot up early.

“You must be pretty tall for your age then, huh?” Ackles-1 asks tentatively.

There’s a pause and he wishes he could see the boy’s face when he responds. 

“The last few months before the fever came were pretty crazy. Grew six inches practically overnight. My whole body hurt, let me tell you,” the boy responds, and his chuckle is soft through the vent.

“Yeah, I was the same way, though I didn’t grow quite as much. Even my hair grew faster towards the end, it was really weird.”

“They said it was our bodies preparing.” The voice stops, and Ackles-1 leans down to see if he’s missing something.

“Preparing for what?” Ackles-1 says, almost in a whisper.

“I’m not sure.” Another pause. “Are they giving you the pills?”

Ackles-1 looks back at his tray, where the two simple looking pills sit in their tiny cup. Nurse Cindy will certainly check on them when she comes back in later, and make him take his second dose of the day. 

“Yeah, one red and one blue. You?” Ackles-1 replies.

“Same here…I’m not sure we should take them.”

Ackles-1’s breath quickens, because he was just thinking the same thing. He’s not sure it’s the right thing to do. In truth, the entire thing is scaring him, just because he doesn’t know what is going on. 

“It’s been helping with the fever though, right? My skin doesn’t tingle as much as it did before.”

The boy pauses again and Ackles-1 imagines that he’s contemplating it. “I guess you’re right. But I did wake up this morning with something weird on my neck.”

“Me, too! Nurse Cindy said it was a marking chip, whatever that means.”

Ackles-1 can hear rustling on the other end of the vent, and wonders what the boy is doing. “A marking chip? What in the world is that for?”

“I don’t know,” Ackles-1 admits, since he’s been wondering the same thing. “Maybe it’s a medical thing?”

“Yeah, maybe,” says the boy, but he sounds even less convinced than before. 

Ackles-1 doesn’t like the somber mood and tries to bring him back to the laughing boy from earlier. “So, what do you like to do for fun? You know, before? I like to draw.”

More rustling, and Ackles-1 imagines the boy is sitting back against the wall the same way he is. “I can play music pretty well. Piano, guitar, even the violin a little bit. One of the Carlson dupes taught me, and he said I was a natural.”

Ackles-1’s smile is so big that it threatened to fall off his face. There was a music room at the home where he grew up. It was usually used by Mother Tapping on the nights she would put her hair down and let some of the children curl up around her. She’d play the loveliest music on the piano, her face serene. Those were the nights that he could almost believe that she loved them.

“That’s really great. I wish I was musical, but I never really learned.”

“Yeah, the Carlson dupes were kind of great like that. They didn’t care too much about what Mother Smith thought.” The boy’s voice sounds nostalgic suddenly. “One of them even taught me how to read.”

Ackles-1 huffs out a surprised breath. “You can read?”

“Yeah, not that great, but well enough. Kind of hard to learn undercover, but it was worth it in the end.”

“I think I was meant to meet you,” Ackles-1 blurts out suddenly, and can’t regret saying the words because they are so very true.

There’s a slight banging sound on the vent, and Ackles-1 realizes that it’s the boy pressing his hand against it. Ackles-1 does the same, automatically and instinctively mimicking the movement. 

“I think I was meant to meet you, too.”

The air is suddenly very serious, and Ackles-1 breaks the tension with a light-hearted quip. “We have to _actually_ meet one of these days.”

It works, and the boy laughs softly. “I have a feeling that there’s no way to stop that.”

Ackles-1 hugs himself, allowing himself a happy moment, even if it’s short and sweet.

The week passes quicker than he expected, the secret conversations through the vent with his new, tentative friend helping immensely. The other times he spends drawing—mostly from memory—faces of people that he has known. Some are familiar images, like three Palicki girls sitting on the floor cross-legged, tongues in the corners of their mouths as they concentrate on the blocks in front of them. Some are just hints of what could be, like the drawing of Nurse Cindy in profile with a hint of a smile on her face.

She comes in one morning wearing that smile, the obligatory tray in her hands. She sets it down and he goes obediently over to the table to eat his fruit. 

“Are you ready for your big day?” she asks, pulling his napkin over his lap. He had tried to stop her doing that on the third day she did it. But she seems to like fussing over him, and part of him likes letting her do it. 

“Big day?” he repeats, popping a blackberry into his mouth and letting the juice rushover his tongue.

“Quarantine is over. You get to go to the recreation room today,” she announces, running her palm over his hair quickly before pulling back and popping her hands into the pouch of her apron.

His eyes grow wide, but then a quick count of the days proves that she is correct. If he is getting out of quarantine today, that means that his new friend is getting out as well. 

“Will there be other duplicates there?”

Nurse Cindy smiles knowingly at him. He thinks she must sense how lonely he is, and seems sympathetic to his feelings. Or at least as sympathetic as anyone he’s met in this place. 

“You bet. There’s another duplicate getting out of quarantine today, too. He’ll probably be there. Ty or one of the other orderlies will show you around, and Nurse Cohan will be there if you need anything,” she fills him in.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on here?”

Nurse Cindy purses her lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, okay? You need to settle in first, let yourself adapt. After a little bit, they’ll assign you your daily duty while you wait for the doctors to finish preparing you.”

Well, like _that_ doesn’t sound ominous at all. He’s thankful that it seems he and the boy next door will be going through whatever mysterious process this is at the same time, together. He holds his tongue for now, knowing that Nurse Cindy is not going to give him any more information.

He goes back to his breakfast silently, and she’s just about to leave when something seems to catch her eye. He tracks her gaze to the various sketches on the bed, and the one in particular of her. Her face softens, and she looks back at him questioningly. 

“You drew me?” she asks, slightly incredulous. “From memory?”

“Yeah.” He gives a small nod, slightly embarrassed for some reason. “You have a nice face.”

A strange look crosses her face and she tenses up, before relaxing again and placing a hand on his arm for a quick squeeze. “You’re a lovely boy. I hope you don’t ever forget that, no matter what happens.”

He looks at her with a frown, confused by what she’s trying to say. She looks like she wants to say more, but she shakes her head and leaves the room as quickly as she came. 

==

It’s early afternoon when Ty comes into the room and tells him to come with him. Ackles-1 tries not to show his eagerness, but being locked in that room for an entire week with no one but a voice in a vent for company is getting to him. He’s not sure what he’s going to find at the end of the multitude of hallways, but at least it’s breaking the monotony. 

Ty gives him a cursory tour of the facility, although Ackles-1 suspects that it’s not even remotely the entire part. More than likely, it’s the designated parts for the duplicates, and the other parts with the medical suites and labs are far more guarded. Once again, he wonders what Nurse Cindy meant when she said that duplicates don’t have security clearance here. Did they think they were going to sabotage things? What reason could they possibly have for doing that? He’s never met a duplicate that was prone to violence; even the Murrays were more annoying than disruptive. 

Ty shows him the several rooms that he calls the “work rooms” but it’s lunch time and they are empty of any workers. Ty doesn’t explain _why_ or _who_ are working in these rooms, but Ackles-1 figures that they are part of the duties that Nurse Cindy spoke of earlier. 

Finally, about twenty minutes into the tour, Ty leads him into a room with the words “Recreation Room” next to the keypad besides the door. Ackles-1 gets excited again, hoping beyond hope that there are actually other duplicates in there to talk to, maybe even his new neighbor.

Sure enough, inside the room are at least a dozen duplicates, ages raging from around his own sixteen to slightly older. They all have the white shirts with their designations stitched to their chests, and Ackles-1 is almost ashamed at how comforting that familiarity is to him. 

They seem to be in various states of repose, a few playing what looks like chess and others watching Commander Richings give one of his rousing speeches on a nearby hologram machine. The most interesting thing is how unique they all are—only one line is doubled, and the others are all singular to their models. If they didn’t have number designations that range from 10 and higher, he would almost think they were Ones like him.

“Have fun,” Ty says, looking almost amused, and heads back out the door. Ackles-1 looks around tentatively, searching the faces for any sign of someone that might be familiar. He’s not sure if he can manage a sweep of all the shirts in the room to see if anyone has Padalecki-1 written on them, but tries to sneak a peek regardless.

A slightly older girl with a pleasant face and long blonde hair tied back in a braid walks over to him. Her designation says Cassidy-17, and he’s about to say hello when he looks down the length of her slim body and sees what looks like a pregnant belly.

The girl notices his gaze and her hands go down to cradle her stomach carefully before looking back up with him with an easy smile. “Hello, welcome! Did you just get out of quarantine today?”

Ackles-1 doesn’t know what to say, terribly confused by her condition. This facility was secure, wasn’t it? How could one of the duplicates be with child? He’s never seen anyone pregnant before and only knows about the condition from the history holograms they were shown growing up.

She seems to sense his perplexity, and rubs her belly one a few times. “This is the third. The first time is hard, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Excuse me?” he stutters out.

Any further questions are stifled by the sign of a tall, gangly duplicate with messy brown hair being led into the room by one of the other orderlies. Ackles-1 knows, _knows_ , deep inside that this kid is Padalecki-1, his friend.

The kid catches sight of Ackles-1, and his face breaks out into the most radiant grin he’s ever seen. The indentations in his cheeks are even deeper than those of Mother Tapping. Ackles-1 doesn’t know how he knows who he is, but he supposes he is sensing it as surely as he himself is.

The orderly leaves, and the kid comes right over to Ackles-1. Sure enough, Padalecki-1 is stitched neatly in red on the shirt that stretches over his chest. With only the slightest hesitation, the kid is grabbing Ackles-1 into his arms for a bear hug. He presses his face into Ackles-1’s neck, and he’s at least two or three inches taller so it’s at an odd angle. It doesn’t matter though, as he presses them together like two puzzle pieces that suddenly clicked together.

Padalecki-1 pulls back, his face suddenly red like he’s embarrassed that it was his first reaction. Ackles-1 feels warmth all over his body—that strange tingling sensation in his nipples and groin that the medication has been tampering down rushing suddenly back. He’s suddenly flustered, and grits his teeth a bit to will the sensations to stop.

“Hi,” he says, slightly breathless.

Padalecki-1 brushes the hair out of his faces and smiles that smile again. “Hi.”

“Do you two know each other?” Cassidy-17 asks, her voice amused as she continues to rub her belly.

“No, we—“ Padalecki-1 starts to answer, but he stutters quiet when he sees her condition. He looks over at Ackles-1, who just shrugs helplessly. 

Cassidy-17 seems to sense their confusion, but doesn’t address it. “I’m going to go sit back down now. My back’s killing me, you know.”

“Yeah sure, of course,” Ackles-1 replies, not knowing at all.

“What the hell?” Padalecki-1 hisses in a whisper as soon as she’s out of earshot. 

“I have no idea,” Ackles-1 replies.

Padalecki-1 seems like he’s going to say something more, but then pauses to just stare down at him again. It’s kind of intimidating, but Ackles-1 finds himself preening at the same time. He can feel his face heating up, but thankfully his body stops acting up. 

They head to the corner of the room and crowd next to each other, cross-legged on the floor. Some of the duplicates are opening staring at them, but something inside of Ackles-1 is drawing him to the other boy. He wants a little bit of time to be alone, or as alone as they can be in a room full of a dozen other teenagers.

“It’s really good to see finally you,” Padalecki-1 says, his eyes soft. His hair is brushing against his forehead in wispy strands, and Ackles-1 finds himself wanting to stroke his hand through it. He’s never felt anything like this in his life, and he wonders if it has anything to do with the medication and the new sensations in his body since the fever struck. 

“I feel like I already know you,” Ackles-1 blurts out, regretting the words for only a moment before Padalecki-1 slips his hand into his, tangling their fingers together. Ackles-1 doesn’t understand what he is feeling, but he has a strange suspicion that he’s not alone in feeling them.

They spend the week trying to get acclimated to their new environment as best they can. There’s a feeling that something is going to happen sooner or later, but right now they are content in getting to know each other and sharing some of their experiences growing up in their separate homes. Padalecki-1 shares stories of how the Carlson models would sneak contraband in right under the nose of Mother Smith, and Ackles-1 would respond with descriptions of mayhem by the Murrays.

It takes a few days of face-to-face meetings in the recreation room and late night conversations between the vent before Ackles-1 brings up Genevieve. His new friend is sympathetic to his loss, and there is a part of Ackles-1 that knows their quick friendship has a lot to do with how much Padalecki-1 reminds him of Genevieve. The quick wit, the needed banter, and the way he’ll squeeze Ackles-1’s hand when he feels instinctively like he needs it.

That leads to what has been brewing in the back of Ackles-1’s head since he found out that Padalecki-1 could read. He feigns a slight chill and puts on a hooded sweatshirt over his cotton shirt before heading to the recreation room one afternoon. Tucked inside is his most treasured possession—the baby name book that Genevieve left him before she was taken away.

The two of them tuck away in their corner of the room like usual. The other duplicates started leaving them alone soon after their first appearance, the curiosity at the beginning about them quickly dissipating. Ackles-1 looks around quickly to see if Ty or Mike, the orderly in charge of Jared, are in the room. He doesn’t trust the orderlies, although Nurse Cohan is nice enough. His gaze lands on the chair where the Nurse usually sits during the time the duplicates are in the room and smiles when he sees that it’s Nurse Cindy on duty this afternoon. She glances over at him with a quizzical look. When he shrugs at her, she just smiles slightly and goes back looking through the chart on her lap.

He doesn’t think he would have chanced what he’s about to do if it wasn’t Nurse Cindy on duty. There’s something about her that makes him comfortable, even though part of him is telling himself that it’s a dangerous thing to be. She seems to be the only person in this place, besides Padalecki-1, that he can possibly trust.

“I want to show you something,” Ackles-1 begins, keeping his voice low so that the duplicates nearby won’t hear him. His back is to the room, and he is hunched over a bit—facing Padalecki-1 with his legs crossed.

“Is it another drawing?” his friend asks, and Ackles-1 shakes his head with a slight blush. The first time he brought his sketch pad to the recreation room, Padalecki-1 made a big deal fawning over his “talent.” 

Ackles-1 hasn’t showed him the latest sketches—all variations on his new friend, with his goofy brown hair, indentations, and slightly crooked teeth. His face heats up just thinking about tracing his fingers over the paper.

“No, not this time. It’s something more important.”

Padalecki-1 gets a serious look on his face, but looks intrigued, so Ackles-1 continues.

“It’s a book of names. My friend, Genevieve, that’s what she used to pick her name out. She gave it to me right before they took her away and told me to _be_ someone,” Ackles-1 says. His voice is shaking as he pulls the book slowly out of his sweatshirt and places it in the hidden spot between their bodies.

“How did she get it?” Padalecki-1 says, his eyes wide as he glances down at the book.

Ackles-1 shakes his head. “Not really sure. She had some of the staff duplicates who liked her. She was charming like that.”

Padalecki-1 smiles that crooked smile of his, and leans in closer. “I know a guy like that.”

Ackles-1 is really blushing now, but it’s impossible not to return the smile. “So anyway, I was hoping, since you can read…”

“You want help picking out a name.” 

He says the words so matter-of-fact that it takes Ackles-1’s breath away. The idea of having a name for himself—an identity that went beyond a mystery Original and a number sewn onto a piece of cotton—made something unidentifiable well up inside of him. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was joy.

“Yes,” Ackles-1 says, and the confirmation makes him giggle involuntarily. 

“Okay,” Padalecki-1 replies with a nod, glancing quickly over at Nurse Cindy to make sure she’s distracted before reaching down to leaf through the book as subtly as possible.

It’s kind of exhilarating, going through the pages and listening to Padalecki-1 as he sounds out various names. His reading is perfunctory at best, but it does the job, and that alone is exciting. 

It’s almost ten minutes later when the right one hits them both.

“Jensen.”

“Say it again,” Ackles-1 breathes. 

“Jensen.”

_Jensen. Genevieve. Jen. Gen._

Ackles-1 closes his eyes—wetness at the corners—for a moment. 

Jensen opens them.

“That’s the one.”

The fondest look he’s ever seen anyone give him is on his friend’s face, but Jensen can’t do anything other than smile back in return. 

“Now you,” Jensen insists, taking a deep breath. He reaches down to turn a few pages back.

Padalecki-1 looks a bit surprised at first, until a grin grows on his face and he starts listing names starting with a “J.” Jensen can’t help but feel a little flustered that Padalecki-1 seems to want to match his new name in some small way.

“Jacob? James?” he throws out, and Jensen wrinkles his nose. They don’t seem quite right, so Padalecki-1 continues. “Jared?”

“That one!” Jensen exclaims, a little too loudly if the way a few nearby duplicates glance at them are any indication. He grabs the book and crams it into his sweatshirt quickly, just in case they are found out. 

“Jared. I like it,” Jared says, chin tipped up. “Jared and Jensen.”

“Jared and Jensen,” Jensen repeats. 

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Jared says, and there’s that grin again. 

They burst into laughter, and it’s even worth the disapproving stare that Nurse Cindy gives them.

==

They get one more week to acclimate before finally being clued in to what their daily duties are going to entail.

“Laundry?” Jensen says, as Ty stops in front of a row of industrial sized machines.

“Someone has to keep you all in shirts,” Ty replies, smirking. 

_Jerk,_ Jensen thinks.

“Padalecki-1 is in charge of collection, so you need to figure out a system,” Ty instructs, and he’s already backing out of the area. “Which means ‘don’t bother me with stupid questions’, in case you missed that.”

“Yes, sir,” Jensen replies with a completely fake smile. He knows better than to rock the boat and make Ty mad. Especially, since he’s lucky enough to have Jared connected to his daily duty. If he has to actually work, at least that made it a little easier.

“Good.” Ty nods. “The busy work is just until you two are ready to start the process, so enjoy it while you’re still active.”

Jensen bites his tongue, wishing he could ask about these little mysterious clues that people keep dropping but never actually explaining. He and Jared have tried to figure it out, but all it’s done is make Jared even more insistent about them stopping the pills. Jensen, on the other hand, is too scared to mess up something that might be keeping them well, and there’s a part of him that is too scared not to listen to an authority figure like Dr. Pellegrino. 

They are both healthy and strong, right? Yes, the weird feelings are still there. But at this point, they are mostly when he is in close proximity to Jared himself. He hasn’t said anything to Jared, but sometimes he finds Jared watching him kind of intensely. He thinks that perhaps Jared is feeling it as well.

There’s a large poster on the wall with picture descriptions of the laundry process. He’s glad that there isn’t anything to read on the poster, but that just makes him think that this is meant to be a duplicate duty only. He’s just figuring out where all the soap is, when Jared comes in holding a large basket full of white cotton.

Jensen laughs. The basket is so high that he can barely see the top half of Jared’s head.

“This is so not funny,” Jared says, pouting as he drops the basket in front of Jensen’s feet with a huff.

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Jensen replies, kicking the basket to the side and poking Jared lightly in the ribs.

That intense expression flitters across Jared’s face but then is gone in an instant. It makes Jensen’s toes tingle. He wonders that if he feels like this with the fever-reducing medication, what would he feel like without it? He remembers the final days in the home. How his skin felt stretched and tight, his nipples swollen, and—more embarrassingly—his penis got engorged for the very first time.

Luckily, that hasn’t happened since he’s gotten to the Nursery, but there are moments when he wonders what would happen if it did.

Jensen shakes himself out of his reverie, mentally scolding himself for thinking such thoughts when they are supposed to be doing laundry.

He’s never realized it fully before, but now he does: his body belongs to the State. His _life_ belongs to the State. It wasn’t ever something he worried about growing up, although Genevieve would put the thought in his mind every now and again, and there were moments he would look at the Dinwiddie or Worthy duplicates and wonder what they went home to, if they went home at all. 

He finds himself suddenly reaching for Jared, not even knowing he’s doing it until his hands are bracing themselves on Jared’s shoulders.

“Jensen?” Jared asks, and hearing his name—his _name_ —on the other boy’s lips is still a new enough occurrence that it makes him giddy. 

Jensen’s hands roam up the side of Jared’s neck. Jared leans into them, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again and darkening as he looks at him.

“Jensen,” he repeats, his voice suddenly deeper than his years. He pulls Jensen closer, wrapping his skinny arms around him until their bodies are flush together—one long line of flesh.

“Jared,” Jensen mumbles into his neck, the skin warm where Jensen’s lips are touching. The heat feels good, and Jensen finds himself rubbing his mouth along the curve of Jared’s neck and across his smooth jawline.

Jared’s hands tighten where they are twisted in Jensen’s shirt, and he pulls them together even closer than Jensen thought possible. Their limbs slot together, and before he knows what’s happening, Jensen is letting out a tiny little moan right into the sudden damp of Jared’s skin.

“I don’t what’s happening to me, Jensen. But you feel it too, right? Tell me you do,” Jared begs, one hand sliding up to the back of Jensen’s neck and the other now cradling his hip.

Jensen pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes. He’s dizzy, the steam and heat from the machines mixing in with all the flustering sensations coursing through his body. His hands slide down and clutch in the material of Jared’s shirt, right above his heart.

“I do feel it, I do,” Jensen agrees, and he barely has time to tilt his head back before Jared is leaning down and pressing his mouth to Jensen’s.

It’s like time stands still. It’s just a press of lips, chaste and closed, but it’s like all the pieces of the puzzle slot neatly together and the lock to this confusing door busts open. 

Jensen’s only seen someone kissing in the holograms. Only seen it in the archival footage of happy couples before the Plague and the Wars, back when things were simple and before the duplicates were born. The State says the duplicates would bring that happiness back, that they would save the world and allow the normal people, the Originals, the chance to have what the hologram shows them.

But right now, as he pulls back from Jared and then dives back in—mouth opening ever so slightly on every pass—all he wants is for _them_ to have the chance to feel this. To feel the wonder and the pleasure and the thrill of togetherness. 

“Wow,” Jared exclaims as they finally pull back from each other. It might have been only moments or hours later, but Jensen can’t tell you which because his brain is a mess.

“Yeah, wow,” Jensen agrees, and his laugh is giddy and free.

“Laundry,” Jared says firmly, like he’s trying to convince himself. Jensen laughs again, and kicks the basket at his feet.

“Laundry.”

With a tiny wave and a goofy grin, Jared heads back out the door, leaving Jensen alone with his industrial washers.

==

They exist like this for a few more weeks, working their shifts during the day, work coming by rote after a while and the ache in their muscles becoming familiar. They spend their recreation time together in their corner, and Jared tells him stories from children’s books he remembers reading when the Carlson dupe was teaching him. Their pinky fingers twist together as they talk—backs up against the wall.

No one seems to take notice except Nurse Cindy. At first Jensen is worried that she is going to tell the doctors, and that they’ll somehow figure out about the secret kisses and holding hands and _feelings_ , and try to separate the two of them. It all comes to a head one day when she overhears Jared calling him “Jensen.” 

A shrewd look comes over her face, and Jared looks stricken by what they both see as a tremendous mistake. For a moment, they think that it’s all going to come crashing down, and for no reason other than their need to claim an identity for themselves.

But it doesn’t crash, and that’s the most surprising thing about this so far to Jensen.

“I don’t know who this Jensen guy is, but you tell him he has a lovely name,” Nurse Cindy says lightly, glancing over at Jensen until he realizes what her choice of wording means. “No matter what happens.”

He draws another picture of her that night. Her hair flying around her in the imagined wind, and the sunshine that he’s never seen surrounding her like a halo. He slips it in her apron the next morning when she comes to bring him his fruit and toast. 

Later that night, the lock on his door clicks, but no one comes inside. Instead, for the first time since he’s been there, he can push the door open from the inside. 

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he peeks out into the hallway. The only thing out there is vague darkness and silence, but that only makes him braver as he tiptoes out and over to Jared’s door. Just as he’s about to try to open it, the door bursts open, almost hitting Jensen in the process.

“What the—” Jared says, as Jensen huffs.

They stare at each other for a moment, not understanding what is happening until Jared lifts up a piece of paper.

“It was pushed under the door,” he explains, with a shrug.

On the paper, is Nurse Cindy and her sunshine halo. He realizes right then and there that this is her show of gratitude.

It takes about five seconds more of hesitation, before Jared is grabbing Jensen into his arms. Shutting the door behind them, he drags Jensen further into the room.

“I have no idea why this is happening, but I’m not going to waste it,” Jared says, laughing breathlessly. He grabs Jensen’s face with both hands and starts devouring his mouth.

Jensen’s completely lost in Jared’s kisses—his entire body singing with them. He lets Jared drag him back until their legs hit the bed, and they tumble down together onto it. It’s a tight fit, especially with how quickly Jared is growing. But like everything they’ve done together since they met, they make it work. 

They’ve become good at this, the kissing part, learning together like everything else. Those early kisses were sweet and pure—just mouth on mouth and sharing breath. That progressed to more—tiny licks and tongues exploring. 

The past few days had been intense, Jared becoming increasingly fervent, and Jensen had been almost afraid to ask why while Jared was sucking on his bottom lip like a starving man.

They hadn’t progressed much into touching. Jensen is still a little worried about the way his body will react, and a tiny part of him concerned that the fever will come rushing back. 

Now, tangled together on Jared’s twin bed, their hands begin roaming until Jared’s hands are pressing into Jensen’s hips, and Jensen’s hands are clutched in Jared’s hair.

Jared moans into his mouth, and Jensen can’t get enough—thrilled with how exciting all of these new sounds and experiences are. 

“Jensen,” he mumbles, hands sliding down farther until they are under Jensen’s bottom, and pulling their lower halves together.

That’s when he feels it—Jared’s penis, swollen and hard against him.

Jensen gasps, shocked. The only time that had ever happened to him was in the grip of the fever before the Nursery, and every association he had with it was one of ill health and delirium. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Jared keeps repeating, pulling Jensen towards him unrelentingly and grinding them together. Jensen just hangs on, hands tightening in Jared’s hair until it feels like he’s going to rip the strands out.

“Jensen,” Jared cries out one last time. His hips still suddenly, but an odd dampness soaks through their sleep pants.

They lie there for a few minutes—breathing heavily and still clinging to each other—before anyone speaks again.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Jensen finally asks, still tentative.

“I stopped taking the pills,” Jared admits, pushing his face into Jensen’s neck as if he’s scared of Jensen’s reaction.

Somehow, Jensen isn’t at all surprised, and to reassure Jared, he brings his arms up around him into a loose hug.

“It feels so good, Jensen,” Jared whispers, pushing his wet groin against Jensen’s again, like he can’t even help it.

“What does?” Jensen whispers back, not moving away even an inch.

Jared drops a light kiss on Jensen’s neck, then his jaw, and up to his mouth. They kiss like that for a long moment, tongues dancing.

“Ever since I stopped taking the pills, it’s like my body is alive again,” Jared explains, hands gripping Jensen’s bottom and tugging until Jensen lifts his leg and swings it over Jared’s hip.

“But the fever…” Jensen tries to protest, but Jared shuts him up with another kiss.

“It’s not like the fever. It’s brighter, clearer. When I look at you, when I touch you, it’s like I want to crawl inside of you,” Jared replies. He’s panting again, the stiff weight in his pants growing once more.

“Jared.” His voice breaks, as he throws his head back.

“They are trying to drug us, Jensen. I don’t know why they are doing it or what they are preparing us for, but we don’t have to let them.”

“This is our life, Jared.”

Jared crawls on top of him, large and warm and overwhelming over him. “Then let’s take a little part of it back.”

“Okay,” Jensen replies after a brief pause. He holds his hands to Jared’s face, already thinking about where he can hide his medication. “Now kiss me. We don’t have much time, and if Ty finds me in here, they’ll separate us.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, as Jared swoops down into his embrace.

The medical exams pick up to three times a week over the next few weeks, Dr. Pellegrino or his colleague Dr. Ferris writing mysterious things in his chart without saying much of anything to him. One time, well into the second week, they pull out a machine that beeps ominously as they spread cold jelly across his abdomen and look at the monitor that is turned so that he can’t see.

Dr. Ferris’s face doesn’t change at all as she watches the monitor, but she gives a small jerky nod and scribbles something down in her chart before handing him a towel to wipe off the jelly and instructing him to get dressed. 

Jensen doesn’t say a word, knows that just nodding will get him out of there faster and allow him to get back to his room or to laundry duty, where a grinning Jared will be hiding behind the machines ready to greet him with a kiss.

Jensen knows that it’s dangerous to ignore what’s happening to them, but it’s just so easy to give into these new sensations that he’s feeling when he’s with Jared, or even when they are apart. Jensen had stopped taking his medication only a few days before, and already his body is beginning to respond in a ridiculously sensitive way when Jared presses his lips to his neck or his chest or the dip of his bellybutton.

Everything changes later that day in the recreation room, when a figure from his past at the Home shows up in front of Jensen.

Cohen-3 stands there, one hand on his hip and the other cradling his protruding abdomen. 

Jensen’s hands start shaking so badly that he drops the pencil he’s holding right to the ground.

Cohen-3 walks slowly over to him and sits down, his smile large and serene. His hair is neat and brushed and his light-colored eyes are still as bright as they ever were. The Cohen line is a fine and handsome one, their Original some kind of important aristocrat.

“Ackles-1! I can’t believe it’s you. When did you get here?” Cohen-3 asks, still beaming. Jensen is so dumbfounded by the fact that he appears to be _pregnant_ that he almost doesn’t respond.

“Oh, a little while back,” Jensen finally replies, his voice faint. He picks the pencil up off the floor just to have something to do.

Cohen-3 rubs his belly and hums a little. “That’s probably why I didn’t see you come in. They had me on best rest for a few months because of complications. Didn’t realize the second one would be a little harder.” He sees Jensen’s stricken expression and must misconstrue it for concern. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine now. In the home stretch!”

“You’re pregnant,” Jensen finally chokes out the obvious.

Cohen-3 looks at Jensen a little strangely, but nods. “Of course, that’s why we’re here. Only the lucky ones like us who get the fever are blessed with the ability to give life back to the State.”

Jensen’s shoulders begin shaking so badly that Cohen-3 seems to notice.

“Oh, I know it must be hard that you haven’t been blessed yourself yet. But you need to let your body complete the process before the doctors can give you your first.”

“I have to go back to work. To the laundry,” Jensen says quickly, needing to get out of there before his mind explodes.

Cohen-3 leans over and squeezes his arm knowingly. “They had me on laundry duty when I first got here, too. But don’t worry, as soon as you’re pregnant they’ll put you on light duty in the sewing room.”

“I, oh,” Jensen stumbles, pulling back from his grasp like it’s burning and rushing out of the recreation room back towards the laundry room.

==

Ty keeps Jared working on the other side of the facility the entire day, so Jensen is a wreck by the time he gets back to his room later in the evening. Nurse Cindy has taken to leaving their doors unlocked at random intervals, so as to not make it too suspicious. He hopes against hope that tonight is one of those nights.

Sure enough, after dinner—only managing to choke down a few bites of chicken due to the queasiness in his stomach—he sits quietly until bed checks are done and enough time passes for the click of the door being unlocked. He waits a few beats before rushing out and practically throwing himself against Jared when he opens his door.

“Hey.” Jared looks surprised by his enthusiasm, but wraps Jensen up in his long arms and pulls him into the room. He places a soft kiss on Jensen’s mouth and Jensen takes a moment to stay still and let the touch center him.

They spend a few minutes wrapped together, just standing in the middle of the room and holding each other as their tongues tangle together. For the first time since his meeting with Cohen-3, Jensen feels a sense of peace.

It doesn’t last long, however. He pulls back and motions for Jared to come sit on the bed next to him. Jared wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, but then gets serious when he sees the expression on Jensen’s face.

Jensen sits on the bed, rubbing his damp palms on the cotton of his sleep pants. 

“What’s wrong, Jensen?” Jared asks, sitting down next to him and reaching over to fold their hands together. He holds Jensen’s hand up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. Jensen can’t help but sigh and smile a little.

“I saw one of the duplicates from the home where I grew up. He’s few years older than us, but he ended up here,” Jensen starts, and Jared gives him a look as if to tell him to go on.

Jensen pauses, not knowing how to say the next part. “He’s pregnant.”

Jared looks momentarily perplexed, but then shrugs. “Okay. I mean, it’s rarer for male dupes to be carriers, but we learned in class that it’s possible. What’s the problem?”

“Jared, have you stopped to wonder how and why there are several pregnant teenagers here?” Jensen asks, eyebrows raised.

Jared’s face is calm for a moment before realization crosses it. “Are you saying that they were sent here on _purpose_ to get pregnant?”

Jensen slowly nods his head, and Jared’s face is stricken before he continues on. “Are you saying the _we_ were sent here for that, too?”

“I think so,” Jensen whispers, and grabs Jared’s hand again to steady their shaking. “The way he was talking…I think the fever is the sign that it’s possible, and the process they are having us go under is to prepare us to have babies.”

“For the State?” Jared chokes out. “They are breeding us?”

“I don’t know, but I think so,” Jensen says helplessly. “Jared, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Jared says, pulling Jensen into his arms and dropping sweet kisses on his face. Jensen clings to him, breathing in his scent and letting his warmth wrap him in a blanket of comfort.

“How do you know that for sure?” Jensen asks, Jared’s hands brushing his face.

“We’re together, right? We’re strong and smart and they can’t take that away from us,” Jared replies, his voice as fierce as Jensen’s ever heard it before. It reminds him so much of Genevieve, that Jensen wants to weep and cling to him even stronger.

Jensen doesn’t have any more words. He falls back on the bed, pulling Jared along with him until he covers Jensen’s body with his own. Their movement becomes more urgent, the material of their shirts being pulled off frantically and thrown onto the floor without a thought. Jared starts mouthing his way down Jensen’s chest. Stopping on the increasingly sensitive nubs of Jensen’s nipples, he pulls them with his teeth and then soothes the pricks of hurt with small licks of his tongue.

“Jared!” Jensen gasps. 

Jared keeps going lower, trails of saliva running wet across his abdomen and dipping into his bellybutton. Jensen laughs breathlessly as tickling fingers and tongue trace circles down the cut of his hip bones. 

“Can I, Jensen? Let me make you feel good,” Jared pleads, his fingers wrapped in the waist band of Jensen’s sleep pants as if he’s waiting for permission to take them off. They’ve never gone this far before, limiting themselves to stolen touches through cotton.

Jensen nods, still a little afraid to voice all the things that his body is feeling, but knowing that he wants every single bit of it with Jared. 

Jared is pulling Jensen’s pants off in one fell swoop and nosing around the fine thatch of hair before Jensen can even finish the movement.

Jensen’s erection is hard and proud rising up against towards his belly, a surprising and intense side effect since stopping the daily medication. He realizes then that the medication must be used to tamp down the urges that their bodies naturally felt once the fever had set in. Although he’s not exactly sure why, it must have something to do with the preparation process the doctors are putting them under.

It doesn’t matter much now, because Jared’s curious tongue is licking circles around the sides of his thighs and up over Jensen’s rock-hard penis. There’s no grace in it, no skill, because neither of them having any idea of what they are doing past the idea that it feels ridiculously good. 

Jared is kissing the underside of the shaft, his nose teasing the crown. He flattens his tongue and licks a long stripe up and down, then around, and back again. His eyes are closed, and there is a weird mix of concentration and devotion on his face. Jensen is so overwhelmed that all he can do is lie back and open his legs wider in invitation.

Then Jensen feels Jared sliding nimble fingers to the underside of his sack, massaging around and then down and swiping teasingly against the crack of Jensen’s bottom. Side to side they go, ghosting their touch close to the round furl of his hole. 

“Let me,” Jared is mumbling again, and his mouth is going lower until his tongue is flat against the tiny muscle that his fingers just sought.

“Jared, what are you doing?” Jensen cries out, and he can feel his entire face grow hot with a blush. Jared doesn’t stop though, just uses his giant hands to spread Jensen further so he can break him open with the wetness and power of his tongue.

Jensen’s never imagined anything could feel like this—his body on fire with sensation as Jared breaks him open from the inside out. He’s afraid that he’s moaning too loudly. The fear of discovery courses through him for a moment before it ebbs quickly away with the feel of Jared pressing his thumb right alongside his tongue.

“Jared, please. I need you,” Jensen begs, not knowing what he’s asking for, but needing everything the boy can give him.

Jared pulls out of him completely. Jensen is momentarily bereft by the emptiness, before Jared is moving quickly up his body and blanketing him. Jared seals their mouths back together. Jensen knows that this should feel disgusting—knowing where Jared’s mouth just was—but he can’t feel anything other than euphoria that they get to have this.

There’s a sudden, sharp stretch at the brink of his hole, and Jensen realizes with mild hysteria that Jared is pressing himself _inside_ of him. Jensen cries out from the burst of pain, but Jared just mouths kisses over his face, shushing him. He slows the push inside, but keeps sliding into him and joining them in a way that neither of them ever learned or thought possible.

Once Jared is all the way inside of him, pelvis and sack flush to Jensen’s body, Jared opens his eyes and stares down at him. The look of awe on the boy’s face is almost too much for Jensen, who just opens his mouth wide and keens a broken sound. 

The shocking pain of the intrusion throbs brightly for a moment, and Jared must sense it because he is keeping himself very still. Finally after a long moment of them sharing panting breaths, Jensen gives a tiny nod, and Jared starts moving again. Not four strokes later Jensen feels it, a bright burst of pleasure that courses through his body unexpectedly.

“There!” Jensen huffs out. Jared looks bewildered for a second, but gets the idea soon enough. He attempts to keep a steady enough rhythm to hit whatever it was inside of Jensen that made that glorious pleasure happen.

“Jensen, Jensen,” Jared gasps, his hips snapping harder and faster. His chosen name on Jared’s lips, combined with the thrusts inside of him and the movement of Jared’s belly over Jensen’s erection, is just enough to send him falling over the cliff of completion.

Jensen cries out, white erupting from him in the most dizzying pleasure that he’s ever felt. Nothing like that has ever happened to him, and he’s just barely able to process it before Jared is following him over and finishing deep inside of him. 

Jensen can feel the burst of wetness deep within him. It fills him with a sudden and solemn sense of connection to Jared, beyond any that he’s ever felt before. He knows—as surely as he knows his own name—that this act has bonded them for as long as they are on this journey’s path.

Jensen hisses as Jared pulls himself out of his body, the pinpricks of pain returning momentarily. Jared collapse on top of him, his breath coming so rapidly that Jensen almost asks him if he’s all right.

“Jared?”

“Yes, Jensen?”

The words Jensen has never spoken sit right on the tip of his lips. Words that they are taught mean selfishness if not applied to the greater good. Commander Richings taught them that.

In this moment, none of it matters. Not the State or the Commander or their duty or the world.

“I love you, Jared.”

“I love you, too, Jensen.”

It’s like the old saying goes, once you know something is happening, you suddenly see it everywhere.

Cassidy-17 is gone from the recreation room one day, and the talk is that she got taken to the other side of the facility to give birth. Cohen-3 is nearing the end of his pregnancy, and ends up back on bed rest. Chikezie-22 and Hartley-39 start showing, bellies pressing against white cotton proudly.

It suddenly makes the time he spends with Jared all the more precious. Stolen moments in the back of the laundry room and whispering in the corner of the rec room are fine, but it’s the nights they are able to spend together that make all the difference.

Some nights, the sound of the lock being undone doesn’t come. Usually those are the days that Nurse Cohan brings him his fruit and toast, and while Jensen realizes that Nurse Cindy needs her days off, it makes the time almost unbearable for him. 

The next time she comes in, her face will attempt to stay a stoic mask, but there will be a flitter of something apologetic there. They never talk about it, Nurse Cindy and Jensen. The words never cross their lips because saying it out loud would somehow betray not only the risk that she is taking, but also the gratitude that he can never repay her.

He draws her more pictures. Sometimes of her—all smiles and dark hair blowing in the wind. Sometimes of himself, the features distorted in a way that he doesn’t quite understand but that come out of his fingertips against his will. He slips those in her apron and, the day after the darker ones, she’ll sometimes place a hand on the back of his neck. Besides Jared, her warmth is the only thing that gives him comfort in this cold, sterile place.

But the nights that he and Jared are together are the happiest nights of Jensen’s young life. It’s not just the physical aspect of it, though they explore each other’s bodies as if every inch is a wonderful adventure. It’s beyond that, being able to hold each other close, to tell each other secrets and fears and hopes in a whispered voice pressed against the other’s ear. It’s the tenderness of intimacy in a world that celebrates only duty.

A month after the first night that Jensen and Jared spend together, Jensen is in the medical suite getting the first of his thrice weekly exams. It’s by rote at this point—the coldness of the jelly, the methodical rhythm of the doctor’s hands, and the mute nod when asked questions about the medication that he had long since stopped taking. He had wondered if they would be able to tell, but besides the increase in physical pleasure and sensation when he’s near Jared, there doesn’t seem to be any other symptoms.

Dr. Ferris is in charge of exams on Mondays, and her routine is the same as any other time at the beginning. Her fingers massage over his abdomen, and it’s almost soothing enough at this point that Jensen can close his eyes and relax if the jelly that she then puts on wasn’t so chilled.

She’s running the wand over his stomach a few times when suddenly her hand just stops. It stays in one place for a long moment, long enough for Jensen to open his eyes and see what’s going on. Her face is still the usual mask, but there is a slight twitch at the corner of one eye that Jensen almost misses. 

Her hand starts moving again, but the patterns she starts taking with the wand are different than the usual. Jensen will sometimes count the strokes, picturing the patterns in his head and then drawing them later in bright reds and yellows. It helps sometimes, to disassociate from what is happening to his body by turning it into beauty and light.

But this is different, and Jensen can feel panic tightening his chest.

Without a word, she puts down the wand and heads over to the intercom on the wall next to the door. 

“I think you should come see this,” she says in a clipped voice, just loud enough for Jensen to hear the words, but barely.

Not two minutes later, both Dr. Pellegrino and Ty are coming into the room.

Jensen’s first instinct is to jump off the table and make a run for it, but they’ve gotten to the point where they don’t strap him down for examinations. He knows with Ty there especially, it would be a futile attempt that would serve him no good.

Dr. Ferris nods over to the monitor next to the bed that is attached to the wand. Jensen can’t see it from where he is laying, and his only indication that there is something on it worth looking at is the widening eyes on Dr. Pellegrino’s face.

“How is that possible?” he asks finally. His voice is as calm as his face, but Jensen can see the distress there clearly in his eyes behind the frames of his glasses.

Dr. Ferris swallows audibly, and for the first time ever, he sees nervousness crossing her face. “I’m not sure, Doctor. His body is obviously at the proper stage of the process, which was why we were going to begin prepping him for implantation soon.”

Jensen sits up quickly, alarm in every fiber of his being, but Ty takes a few steps towards him in a show of dominance. Jensen stays sitting, but doesn’t move from the table. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, but he listens as they talk as if he’s not in the room at all.

“Looks like someone beat you to the punch,” Dr. Pellegrino responds, and there’s an undercurrent of viciousness in the words that startles Jensen. The doctors—for all their disaffected nature—never seemed more than cogs in the machine. Seeing the anger and fear laced in their words is both new and frightening.

Dr. Ferris takes a step back, as if Dr. Pellegrino’s words are physically pushing her. Dr. Pellegrino glances once more at her dismissively, and then turns to Ty. “Take Ackles-1 back to his room. He needs his rest.”

Without another word, Ty is grabbing Jensen by the bicep and leading him back towards his room. Ty’s walking so swiftly that Jensen stumbles as he tries to keep up, but Ty doesn’t say one word to him as he pushes him into his room and locks the door behind him.

It’s during the workday, so Jared isn’t in the next room to even talk to through the vent. Jensen starts pacing the room, not knowing exactly what is going on but having a suspicion that can’t possibly be true.

_Can it?_

It seems like hours pass before Nurse Cindy comes flying into the room, shutting the door securely behind her. Her face is red and shiny, and it looks like she’s been running.

“What have you done?” she says incredulously, rushing over to him and just stopping before she reaches him.

He steps back instinctively, suddenly afraid. She must sense his fear, because her face softens and she reaches out to him with both hands on his hunched shoulders.

“Jensen,” she says, and it’s the first time she’s ever acknowledged his name. It should be a happy moment, but there is a gravity behind the words that tells him that what is coming next is anything but.

“I’m pregnant, aren’t I?” 

The words pop out, unbidden. He doesn’t know how he knows, but suddenly he’s never been surer, and his hands fall instantly to cradle his still flat stomach.

She nods solemnly, but then turns and curses. “But it’s not possible. The inhibiters make it impossible. You shouldn’t even have the ability to engage in the physical act.”

“You mean the pills?” he asks, knowing the answer before she replies. 

She nods again and turns back to him. “Yeah, besides the fact that you shouldn’t even know _how_ , the inhibiters are supposed to stop both physical erection and the sexual urges caused by puberty.”

Her voice is so matter-of-fact, and it burns Jensen up inside that they can so casually talk about forcing a substance on them that changes the very chemistry of their bodies.

Who is he kidding? Their bodies never belonged to them for even one moment since birth.

“Is Jared going to get in trouble?” Jensen asks. What he really wants to ask is if they are going to be separated, but even putting the idea out into the universe is terrifying to him.

She breathes in deeply. “Jared’s the other father, right?” 

Jensen nods, numbly. Father. They are going to be _fathers_.

Nurse Cindy closes her eyes tightly, a torn look crossing her face. She looks like she’s trying to make a decision, one that she is struggling with. 

“Please, just tell me. Cindy, please,” he pleads, because there is already uncertainty literally growing inside of him. He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

She straightens up then and it seems her decision has been made. 

“You and Jared were created to make this baby. They just didn’t think it would ever be this way, obviously.”

Jensen stares at her incredulously, her words making no sense. “What are you talking about? Do you know who our Originals are?”

“I do,” she states, but cuts him off with one palm when he looks at her excitedly. “But it’s a story for another time. 

“Another time? I find out that not only was I being drugged, but that I’m now pregnant because no one taught me that was even possible? I’ve spent my whole life wondering who I am, and you tell me that not only do you know who my Original is, but that I was created for some top secret reason to breed with a boy that I didn’t even know until a few months ago? And you think another time would be good?”

“Jensen,” Nurse Cindy says, leaning over and placing her hands on his cheeks. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until she’s wiping the moisture from his skin.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers, wrapping his fingers in the front of her shirt. Without the slightest hesitation, she wraps him up in her arms and pulls him into a hug, rocking him softly where they stand.

“You were supposed to cuddle,” she says suddenly with a laugh. It’s tinged with just enough hysteria that it makes him start laughing as well.

“We did cuddle,” he protests, head buried in her shoulder.

“Not like _that_!” she replies, and Jensen practically snorts.

There’s a moment of silence as the tension—broken for just the moment—returns. She gently pushes him back and looks him directly in the eye. Her face is as serious as he’s ever seen it before.

“They are going to take the baby.” She sees him startle and puts her hands firmly on his shoulders to keep him in place. “Once they confirm that it’s Jared’s, they are going to separate the two of you and send you the high-value maternity ward. Then, when the baby is born, the men that created you and Jared will take the child for whatever purpose they designed you for.”

“Please,” he says, and there’s nothing else he can say because hope seems so futile.

He thinks he sees a shimmer of moisture in her wide, dark eyes. “I want you to live, Jensen. I want you to decide for yourself what you want to be and who you want to be with. I’ll never have a child, so I want to give you that.” 

She pauses, then sets her jaw and continues. “I’m going to give you a choice.”

Jensen realizes in awe that it’s the first time anyone’s ever done that.

He nods slowly.

“Do you trust me?” she starts, and he nods more quickly this time. He does, absolutely.

“Tomorrow Dr. Pellegrino and Dr. Ferris are going to run more tests on you. Let them. When they ask you questions about your condition, play dumb. They won’t do anything before they talk to the people above their pay grade so it’ll buy us a bit of time.”

“Time for what?” he asks, fear tingling in his belly alongside the hint of what could be his child.

“Tomorrow night, after bed checks. I need you to be ready. Do you hear me, Jensen? Be ready.”

“Ready for what?” 

She runs a hand along his cheek. “To leave this place, Jensen."

Excitement burns through him, but also resolve. “I’m not going anywhere without Jared!”

Cindy smiles fondly and rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Jared, too."

“Okay,” he says, letting out a deep breath. “I can’t thank you enough for helping us. No one has ever been so nice to me before.”

She looks away and it looks strangely like she’s struggling with his words. “It’s the least I can do. Just be ready tomorrow night.”

She’s gone before he can say anything else. Jensen goes over to the vent, sitting down on the ground with is legs pulled up to his chest. 

He waits for Jared’s voice whispering through the grate, what seems like hours later.

“Jared, I have something to tell you,” Jensen begins.

  


The entire next day is full of anxiety and anticipation. As Nurse Cindy predicted, he spends most of the day in the medical suites having tests run on him. He’s prodded by cold hands and even colder jelly, his limbs moved and insides photographed.

The doctors talk about him like a test subject, as if he’s not even there and not a living, breathing person with emotions and a brain. It makes him so angry, the fire of rage burning inside of him for the first time in his life. It soothes him at the same time and gives him purpose. It makes him act dumb when they quiz him on how he ended up like this and shrug his shoulders like the brainless animal they take him for. 

It makes him long for the night. For the thought of holding Jared’s hand as they flee this terrible place. Even though the world outside these walls are unknown, at least they are making the choice to live in it.

Jared takes the news surprisingly well. Jensen thinks that there is something innate in Jared that senses that things are going to be all right. He wonders if there are any latent psychic abilities mixed up in their genetic code. Even when he shushes himself and tells himself that it’s just fiction, a small part of him thinks it might actually be true.

Jared had said to him, “I will follow you anywhere, Jensen.” And in that moment Jensen knew that they had to leave in order to survive.

Finally, the night comes. Jensen barely eats his dinner—the anticipation for what is soon to come combined with the new creature growing inside of him making it almost impossible to keep anything down. He knows he needs his strength, but it’s difficult.

Ty comes around to do bed checks, and Jensen stays still in the dark until he hears his heavy footsteps heading down the hall. He doesn’t know exactly what their working schedule is, but Nurse Cindy always manages to come unlock their doors after this point in the night, so Ty must leave the facility before she does. 

Jensen trusts that Nurse Cindy knows what she’s doing and stays in bed.

It’s closing in on an hour later when the door creaks open and two figures come in, their shapes noticeable only via flashlight. Jensen’s heart thumps wildly in his ear when he recognizes Nurse Cindy, but then sees the male figure in dark clothing and messy black hair next to her.

“Jensen, get up! We need to leave the lights off so we don’t trip the sensors. We have to move quickly,” Nurse Cindy commands, keeping her voice low and level. She and the man come over to the bed, where Jensen is scrambling to untangle himself from the bed sheet.

“This is Dr. Collins,” she introduces. Jensen looks at her with accusation in her eyes for bringing another doctor into his room.

“Not that kind of doctor, at least not anymore,” the man interrupts wryly, glancing between the two of them. “Call me, Misha.”

“I’m Jensen,” he replies. Misha’s eyes widen a bit at that.

“They gave you a name?” he asks, and the surprise is obvious.

“I gave myself a name,” Jensen replies, chin tipped up defiantly. 

Misha barks out a low, sharp laugh. “I like you, kid.”

“Not a kid,” Jensen protests.

“No arguing now,” Cindy says, shushing him.

“We need to get rid of the chip first. That’s why I’m here,” Misha explains, pulling a long device with pinchers on the end out of the pocket of his jacket. He motions for Nurse Cindy to shine the light closer to the back of Jensen’s head.

“Can I?” Misha asks, motioning towards Jensen’s neck. Even though Jensen is suddenly terrified of what’s next, he nods and turns around enough for Misha to get to the space where the tracking chip is located.

There’s a sharp stinging sensation as Misha brings the end of the device to his skin, and then a feeling like a punch that shocks him. Jensen hisses and hunches his shoulders, but it’s over before he knows it. Misha pushes a piece of gauze onto the back of his neck.

“Hold it there, okay?” Misha instructs, and Jensen takes over pressing the gauze to the wound.

Misha puts the minute track chip right in the center of Jensen’s bed. Since the device will only activate if it leaves the premises, it should buy them some time, at least overnight.

Jensen grabs the tiny duffel that he arrived at the Nursery with, Genevieve’s book tucked firmly in the bottom. It’s the only thing he takes with him as they head quickly next door to Jared’s room.

“Jensen!” Jared says, rushing to him and squeezing him tightly in his arms. It’s the first they’ve seen of each other since Jensen found out about the baby, and the need to be together and feel skin on skin is overwhelming.

“No time for that now, guys. It’s how you got in this mess in the first place,” Nurse Cindy scolds, gesturing for Jared to turn around so Misha can perform the same procedure on him. Jared doesn’t protest except for a soft yelp when the chip comes out, and they leave the chip in Jared’s bed also.

The four of them start moving down the hallway, staying towards the walls per Nurse Cindy’s instructions to avoid detection. They end up down a corridor that the boys have never seen before. Jensen realizes that it’s probably the staff entrance. 

Nurse Cindy quickly unlocks the door leading out of the facility, and suddenly new people are coming in. There are three of them—an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard, another man with smooth dark skin and a closed shaved-head, and a lithe woman with long blonde hair and a hard expression. They all carry weapons that Jensen has never seen before, and he instinctually backs up and away from them.

“It’s okay. They are friends,” Nurse Cindy whispers to him and smiles. He nods and looks over at the first man, who seems to be the leader of the group.

“You finally coming with us this time, Cin?” 

“You know I can’t do that, JD,” Nurse Cindy replies. She’s smiling, but Jensen can tell her eyes are sad even in the dim lighting.

“Why not?” Jensen butts in, not realizing until it was said that he wants her to come, too. “Why can’t you come with us?”

Nurse Cindy touches his face one last time. “I’m not brave like you, Jensen.”

Jensen starts to protest, but she’s already turning away from him and staring over at the group. “You need to knock me out and then kick the door in from the outside. It needs to look like an ambush or my ass is toast.”

“I can’t knock you out,” JD insists. The blonde woman pushes him aside and lifts her weapon.

“I should have known you’d have no problem doing it,” Nurse Cindy states, as the woman rolls her eyes one last time before knocking Cindy out cold with the butt of her weapon.

“No problem at all,” the woman grins, nudging Cindy unconscious body with her toe before heading back towards the open door.

“Alona, that was _so_ not necessary,” JD deadpans, but he’s heading towards the door quickly as well.

“Are you sure we should go with them?” Jared says, and his voice sounds terrified.

Jensen’s about to agree with him, when he looks down at Nurse Cindy and realizes how much she’s risking so that they can be safe and free.

“It’s our only chance,” Jensen replies, and holds out his hand for Jared to take.

They step over the threshold of the doorway together, and the first burst of real fresh air hits them. Jared gasps in a breath and looks over at Jensen, who is staring back at him in awe. 

It’s the very first time in their lives they have been outside.

The rebels rush them into the back of a black van.

“Where are you taking us?” Jensen finally thinks to ask.

JD turns around in his seat and grins at them, teeth bright in the moonlight. 

“To freedom, kiddo.”

It’s warm in the van—too warm—but Jensen snuggles closer to Jared where they sit pressed up against the worn leather seats in the back. In the dark of the interior, he takes in their rescuers slouched in various spots around the vehicle. Some are tense, like Alona, clutching her weapon, or laid-back with eyes closed like Misha.

“We’ve been driving a long time,” Jared whispers, nuzzling his nose against the side of Jensen’s face. Jensen pushes back into it and reaches up for a quick kiss. 

Jensen sees Alona looking at them with an unreadable expression, but is too emotionally and physically exhausted to care what she thinks about them.

“Go to sleep, boys. We’ve got a while yet,” JD’s voice comes from the front of the van where he’s driving. Jensen stiffens for a moment, but then the van is rocking and Jared’s shoulder is comfortable and he lets his eyes close.

“I’ll keep watch. Don’t you worry.” Jared’s comforting words are the last thing Jensen hears as darkness finally overwhelms him and he sleeps.

==

Jensen’s woken up by Jared shaking him. He rubs his eyes sleepily, and allows himself to be wrapped in a blanket before stumbling towards the door of the van.

Jensen blinks rapidly, eyes adjusting to something they’ve never felt before.

_Sunshine._

The blanket falls to the rocks and dirt at his feet as Jensen turns his face to the sky in awe.

A hand creeps into his own, and Jensen turns quickly to see Jared’s dazed face looking back at him. Slowly—with wonder and eyes shiny—they smile at each other and let the warmth wash over them.

A strange sound hits them, and they turn to see a group of birds flying over their heads. They soar together as a group—one unit beautiful in their synchronicity—but then a single one breaks off and dives out of rotation. Jensen envies that little bird, respects it for claiming its own space. Even though it might end up in the same place as his brethren, he’s the one choosing the direction.

“What’s the hold up, Sterling?” JD shouts from up ahead. Jensen realizes they must have been standing there for a while, because JD is already opening up a hatch leading into a ramshackle structure built into what looks like the side of a mountain.

The man with the dark skin and shaved head stands watching them from a few feet in front of them. He’s looking at them with an odd expression, mouth tilted up in what might be an attempt at a smile.

“I think they are watching the birds, JD,” Sterling finally replies with a drawl, shaking his head in amusement as he cocks his head to get the boys to follow him.

“Got ourselves a couple of nature lovers. Danni’s gonna love that,” JD says with a snicker, and Jensen thinks he’d be a lot more embarrassed if he wasn’t so enraptured by the fact that he’s still standing in the _sunshine_.

“Feels good, huh?” Alona says, voice low. Jensen jumps a bit because he hadn’t realized she was behind them. She picks up the blanket and tosses it to him.

Jensen—not knowing how to put how profound the moment is into words—simply nods and squeezes Jared’s hand even tighter.

They finally start moving and Jensen has but a minute to look over the barren, rocky land around them before they are being ushered through the hatch and down a set of stairs to what appears to be an underground bunker. Jensen misses the sunshine the second the clang of metal sounds behind him.

They proceed down a long hallway for what seems like ages, lit by a string of fluorescent lights at the top near the low ceiling. Jensen, still exhausted from the journey, struggles to keep up not only with the athletic rescuers, but also Jared and his extra-long legs. He stumbles, but, like always, Jared is there to catch him.

Finally, the hallway twists to the right, and opens up into a large room with much higher ceilings and a massive lighted table dominating the space. Misha has already thrown his jacket down on a nearby table and is sitting back in a chair with his feet up. Another man —this one short and stocky with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail—comes up to talk to JD, completely ignoring the new guests.

“Took you long enough,” the man says gruffly, clasping his forearm to JD’s in what Jensen supposes is a greeting.

“You know me, Kane. Safety first,” JD replies, as the man rolls his eyes.

“Anyone tracking you?” Kane continues. His voice is harsh, and Jensen is a little wary about what his place in the group is.

“Nah, we’re good. Rhodes and her crew blew up the sweatshop building over on North Hudson right past midnight. Had all the uniforms in the area heading in that direction.”

Jensen looks up at Jared, who is chewing on his bottom lip nervously. _Blowing up buildings?_

“How did you get us out so easily?” Jensen blurts out. Kane finally looks over at them like he just noticed they were there.

“They think they are safe because we never hit the non-dupe breeding facilities.” JD grins, but his eyes are dark and vicious. “Hubris is a bitch.”

Jensen swallows hard at the word “breeding” and doesn’t understand half of what they are talking about, but just nods for now and figures they’ll find out more eventually.

“Didn’t anyone teach you fools manners? “ Another new person, this time a woman with reddish brown hair tied up in a bun and a round, kind face, comes up and holds her hands out to them.

“Go ahead, take them,” she urges, a little indentation popping up at the bottom of her cheek as she wiggles her fingers.

Jensen looks over at Jared quickly, before reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. Jared copies the movement and the three of them look at each other for a moment.

The woman smiles brightly, and she looks pleased. “My name’s Danneel. Welcome to your new life.”

“I’m Jensen, and this is Jared.” Jensen hears the rumbling in the room, and even Danneel manages to barely hide the surprise in her face. 

“Well, aren’t those fine names,” Danneel says, her voice slow and firm. “Did you pick them yourselves?”

Jensen holds his head up with pride, belly fluttering at the acknowledgement of their identities. “Yes, ma’am, we did.”

“Oh god, I’m only thirty three. None of this ma’am stuff!” Danneel says with a laugh, squeezing their hands one last time before slipping the blanket off of Jensen’s shoulders and ushering them to some chairs near the table. 

“That what it says on your shirts?” Kane says, voice like steel.

Jensen can hear Danneel cluck her tongue in annoyance at Kane’s tersely asked question.

Before Jensen can brace himself, Kane is across the room and standing right in front of them, grabbing at the thin cotton against their chests. Jared instinctually reacts and starts pushing him off of Jensen, but not before Kane manages to get a good glimpse at their duplicate designations.

His eyes bulge and he stumbles back, spinning around to glare at JD.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Kane hollers. 

Jensen flinches, and Danneel rubs her hand over his neck in a comforting gesture.

JD stands firm, but Sterling pushes in closer just in case. The air in the room is suddenly alive with friction, and even Misha puts his feet down and leans forward in anticipation.

“Padalecki and Ackles? Are you fucking high?” Kane continues, vein bulging out of his forehead as JD continues to stare at him as still as a statue.

“Stop your hysterics. Cindy told me they needed help, and that’s that,” JD says. His expression turns shrewd. “We _help_ people, Kane. Or did you forget that somewhere along the line?”

Alona snorts, and Kane nearly snarls at her. 

JD, obviously seeing the situation heading towards a spiral, relaxes his body and holds up a placating hand. “Look, we’ve been driving all night. We’re tired. Let’s go rest up, and we can discuss this later over Danni’s latest casserole concoction and a whole lotta booze. Deal?”

“You love my casseroles,” Danneel responds, clucking her tongue, and the tension bleeds out of the room.

“If I believed in things like romance and happiness, I’d marry you for those casseroles,” JD responds, and the grin Danneel attempts—and fails—to hide is enough to get a tiny corresponding one out of Jensen.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Alona deadpans, which gets a laugh out of Sterling and Misha, and half-a-smirk out of Kane.

“I can’t believe I put up with any of you,” Danneel announces, pulling the boys to their feet and shooing them towards the doorway and back down the hallway.

“Get some rest, boys!” JD calls after them, his voice getting father away as they walk.

Another winding path leads them to a small room with a couple chairs, one decent sized cot, and a dresser with a mirror. Danneel waves them towards the middle of the room.

“We don’t have a lot of extra room around here, so I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed.”

Jensen looks over at Jared, whose cheeks are warming up into a blush.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Danneel replies with a smirk, reaching up to pat them both on the cheek before leaving the room. She closes the door behind her, and suddenly there is complete silence.

Jared blows out a long breath and flops down on the bed. He pats the space next to him, and Jensen gladly goes to take it. Jared wraps his arm around Jensen’s shoulders, holding him tight to his body. Jensen listens to Jared’s breath and his heartbeat. They are as comforting and as familiar and as necessary as his own. 

“At least we’re together,” Jared says after a long moment. The truth of it is so deep that Jensen can’t think of anything else to do but nod.

Tilting Jared back on the bed, Jensen crawls next to him and holds him tight. He listens to the steady, reassuring beating of Jared's heart and lets exhaustion take him. 

Later, Jensen wakes up and watches a still-slumbering Jared, the rhythmic cadence of his breathing soothing. He knows that soon they will have to face the others, but right now all Jensen wants to do is snuggle back into Jared's warmth and let himself feel safe.

So he does.

It’s weird wearing other clothing.

Jensen tugs at the sleeves of the flannel shirt Danneel gave him to put on instead of the cotton duplicate uniform. He’s not used to the fabric, and he almost feels a phantom itch on his skin where it’s touching the tiny hairs on his forearm.

“Thank you,” Jensen says softly as Danneel puts a bowl of what looks like pasta and vegetables down in front of him. It’s later that night, and they are in a different, yet still large room, this one with a long metal table and what looks like a kitchen attached to it. Jared sits next to him, like always.

“Where’s mine?” JD asks, scruff around his mouth turning down as he frowns.

“I’m not your maid. Get it yourself,” Danneel retorts, shooting him a perfectly pissy expression and sitting down next to Jensen to start eating her own dinner.

Titters go around the room as JD rolls his eyes and heads off towards the kitchen to feed himself. It’s still early yet, but Jensen’s trying his best to get a sense of the dynamic between the group. One minute, it’s fraught with tension, and the next it’s relaxed and more casual than Jensen is used to. It’s almost amazing how _free_ everyone seems.

“This is really good,” Jared says, mouth full of pasta and look of ecstasy on his face. Jensen smiles fondly at him; there’s nothing his boy loves more than food. Except for maybe Jensen himself. 

Jensen tries hard not to blush just thinking about it, but it must not work because Danneel nudges him and winks.

JD comes back, dropping a bowl down in front of Sterling, who salutes him and raises the bottle he’s drinking from. JD taps his own bottle against it, and they drink.

It goes like that for a while, the companionship easy in the silence as they finish their meal. It’s only when they are finishing—when the second bottles turn into three and then four—that things get looser yet more charged.

“What is this place?” Jared finally asks. He’s the brave one, Jensen thinks. If anyone is going to be the one to get information out of these hardened adults, it’s him.

JD looks around the room, almost like he’s checking to see how the others feel about giving out information. Sterling nods his head, and Kane and Alona shrug.

“It’s a former military base. One of a string of underground bunkers that were commandeered by the first rebel off-shoots after the last of the Great Wars.” JD pauses, and looks back and forth between the two boys. “How much do you kids know about your history?”

Jensen’s about to launch into what he remembers from the history holograms growing up, but Jared interrupts him.

“Nothing,” Jared says, and his voice is as bitter as Jensen as ever heard it. “Everything they told us was a lie.”

JD nods at that and gives a quick, humorless bark of a laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

Misha continues for him. “It started with a eugenics program. Geneticists attempting to create the ‘perfect child’. But for some reason they decided that instead of altering the child, they would start with the parent.”

“They created a ‘good virus,’ one that was supposed to purify people of genetic abnormalities,” JD keeps going. “They put it in the water supply.”

“There was a…” Misha pauses. “…bad reaction. The ones who didn’t die became infertile, and with the way the world was setup, it quickly spread and became a global problem. For a moment in time, the human race stopped being able to replicate itself.”

There’s silence in the room for a long moment. Jensen’s hand is shaking when he slips it into Jared’s.

JD clears his throat and keeps going. “When people found out what the leaders here had done, there was a coup led by members of the military who had been waiting for the opportunity. There was a series of civil wars after that, and after the dust settled the population was decimated and this part of the world became isolated from the rest."

Sterling pounds his bottle back on the table, face tight. “And to solve that problem, they brought in the docs again to create their little science projects.”

“We’re not science projects, we’re people!” Alona interjects, face red and mouth set in a grim line.

Jensen looks at her, startled. “You’re a duplicate?”

Alona gives a tight nod and leans back in her chair, pointedly not looking at anyone in the room.

JD gives it a moment and then brings the attention back to himself. “They didn’t publicize it because it probably would have led to mass abductions, but there were still some women left who could carry a pregnancy to term. The newly formed State created the duplicate system and used these women as incubators to start the program and replenish both the population and the work force. Eventually, it became self-sustaining, especially when they figured out a way to trigger a reproductive heat cycle in both dupe genders. The problem is that they weren’t able to ensure this ability in every model.”

“Nature’s complex randomness wins,” Misha adds, draining the last of his drink and pushing the bottle away from him.

“But now they are running scared, and that’s where we come in.” Kane finally speaks up and Jensen wonders why he’s been silent this long.

“But what about Commander Richings?” Jensen asks, thinking of that wizened face staring back at him his entire life.

JD snorts rudely. “Richings has been dead almost twenty years.”

Jared lets out a shocked gasp, staring at Jensen with wide eyes. Jensen shrugs helplessly. It almost feels like he’s lost a father, as sick as that thought is after everything they’ve just heard.

“They still use his face and speeches as propaganda across the entire hologram network. But he died in a bomb blast. His number two, General Heyerdahl, took over in the immediate aftermath. But the uniforms were split, and there’s been in-fighting ever since. Which is good for us, for obvious reasons.”

Kane picks up where JD leaves off. “Info has gone cold for a while now, but the last we heard there was a General Fuller who was fighting his way to the upper levels. Rumor has it that he’s just a puppet for a civilian company run by the two richest men in the State.”

Kane pauses and stares directly at Jared and Jensen. 

“Those men are named Tristan Padalecki and Ross Ackles.”

Jensen’s thankful that he’s sitting, because there’s the possibility that he might pass out any moment.

“Here honey, drink this,” Danneel says soothingly, holding her bottle up to his lips and starting to tip it, before Misha interjects with a loud “Stop!”

Misha grits his teeth and looks quickly at JD and then back to Jensen. “He can’t have alcohol. He’s pregnant.”

It’s like an explosion goes off as half the table jumps to their feet, and bottles go smashing to the ground.

“JD, are you fucking insane? Stealing Ross Ackles’s pregnant dupe like it’s just another raid?” Kane asks, his face switching between rage and disbelief. “You’ll bring the entire State down on us.”

“Can’t take the heat, Kane? Still just a poor little rich kid rebelling against Daddy by playing with the big bad freedom fighters,” Misha mocks from where he’s still sitting nonchalantly at the table.

“Well at least I wasn’t helping create slave babies for those sick fucks,” Kane growls back at him, and Misha’s cool exterior is washed immediately with shame. His eyes flick to Alona, who is in the corner of the room pacing with a completely unreadable expression on her face.

Jensen finds himself instinctively holding his stomach and backing away from the group. Jared senses his movement and starts following him, as does Danneel, who is suddenly a ball of pissed off den mother.

“That’s enough, all of you! Don’t you think these boys have been through enough without having to listen to your shit? Humanity is not worth saving if people can’t even bother acting like rational adults.”

“Danni’s right, that’s enough,” JD agrees, standing to his full height and using every extra inch he has above Kane. 

“Fine. Not like anyone is asking my opinion anyway,” Kane replies, voice tight, as he turns on his heels and stalks out of the room.

JD rubs a hand over his face wearily, and Jensen notices for the first time the worried lines around his eyes and mouth. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that. Kane’s a good guy, we all are. We’re just in a precarious situation, and we have to figure out what to do about it.”

“But we’re not figuring out anything tonight,” Danneel says firmly, giving JD a look that Jensen figures brooks no argument. 

“Not tonight,” JD agrees. “Sterling and I are going to go get drunk on bootleg whiskey. I would suggest you do the same, but considering you’re teenagers, that would be a bad influence of me.”

JD’s smile turns soft, and Jensen can’t resist giving him a one in return.

“Let’s just go to bed, Jensen. I want to hold you,” Jared says quietly, just for him. He wraps his arms around Jensen and leans into his space.

Jensen lets out a shaky breath. Tomorrow’s another day, right? 

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

==

The calm lasts for a few days. JD, Sterling, Kane, and Alona are gone during most of the day, leaving the boys with Misha and Danneel, neither of whom are telling them much. Jensen and Jared try to acclimate themselves to the new, tentative reality—resting and eating and spending as much time together as possible.

There’s a part of Jensen that knows he should be thinking about the life growing inside of him, but it’s still such an overwhelming and terrifying prospect that he tries to push it to the back of his mind. Jared’s hand will absently head towards Jensen’s stomach every now and again, but Jensen can see the moment Jared hesitates and pulls back. Jensen doesn’t say anything, because not saying anything somehow keeps it from being real.

On the third day of their new life, the entire crew sits down around the lighted table in what JD calls “The War Room.” Now less exhausted than when they first arrived, Jensen takes in his surroundings and notices an elaborate hologram setup and what looks like virtual maps set directly into the table. He’s intrigued but still a little tentative in inquiring exactly what it all means.

“So what now? Are we going to stay here forever?” Jared goes ahead and asks, drumming his fingers nervously on the table. JD’s standing at the head of the table, wiping a hand over his face a few times, before he sits down.

“No, this is only a temporary safehouse.” JD pauses, spreading his hands out on the table. “We’ve been putting some feelers out to contacts in the State. We know that Padalecki and Ackles know about your abduction, as they are calling it.”

“Are they coming for us?” Jensen asks, his voice wavering, but trying to stay strong enough to deal with what they need to.

JD shakes his head. “Not yet, but that’s not going to last long. They also know about the baby, which seems to have been the plan of your creation all along.”

“Sterling and I have been talking,” Kane butts in.

“That’s never a good thing,” Alona retorts before Kane cuts her off with a look and continues.

“We have to be smart about this. These two and the kid are leverage, the best we’ve had in years. We could try and trade them in for an entire facility of dupes—"

“These are people, not cattle for fuck’s sake,” Misha interrupts. Sterling holds up a hand to shut him up.

“It’s a good plan, JD. And you know it,” Sterling adds, looking at JD with a stoic expression.

There’s a tense silence in the room and no one breathes until finally Danneel breaks it.

“You can’t be seriously considering this, Jeffrey Dean,” she says incredulously, standing up and placing a protective hand on Jensen’s shoulder.

JD looks grim. “No, I’m not considering it. We’re not going to start trading people like they are objects.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Misha interjects, exasperated.

JD’s not smiling though, and Jensen gets the ominous sense that there is something he’s considering that they won’t like.

“But that’s not all, is it?” Jensen says, his voice soft but firm.

JD looks over at him, and slowly nods. “No, that’s not all. Their main priority is that baby you’re carrying. I think it’s best for everyone involved if we terminate. Misha was a dupe doctor, he can do it. It’s the best chance you two have of getting away from these people and having a new life.”

Jensen’s too shocked to say anything. He doesn’t have to, because seconds later Alona explodes, standing up from the table and rushing at JD.

“That’s not your damn decision to make,” Alona insists, pushing at JD even though he’s got half a foot on her.

“It’s a hell of a lot more my decision than yours, _Tal_ ,” JD growls, holding her back by the forearms. She flinches at the name, and Jensen realizes that must be that of her Original.

“Fuck you,” Alona hisses, struggling in his grasp.

“That’s ‘fuck you, _boss_ ’.”

She finally breaks the hold and punches him straight in the jaw, as the whole room finally awakens from its frozen state and starts rushing to separate them. Alona brushes Kane off when he tries to touch her, and starts walking backwards, holding her hand against her chest.

“I don’t have a boss, and neither do those boys. If you think we do, then you’re just as bad as the people you say you’re trying to stop,” Alona says soberly, spinning around and heading towards the door.

“Alona, wait!” JD calls after her, rubbing his jaw and waving off Misha’s attempts to come tend to him.

Jensen watches the entire scene play out like a messed-up hallucination, before finally standing up and heading towards the door himself. Maybe Alona is right, maybe these people they are trusting are just as bad as the doctors. Maybe they are worse, because they give false hope and care.

“Jensen,” JD says, noticeably softening his voice. “It’s okay, son. We’ll work it out.”

Jensen glances at him and then back at Jared, who is staring at him with a conflicted face that must match his own.

“I need to be alone. Please,” he mumbles, and runs out of the room as fast he can.

Jensen’s breathing heavy by the time he gets back to the little room he shares with Jared, both because of the physical exertion of running all the way and from the emotional toll that all of this information is giving him.

He slumps down on the cot, back against the wall, and tries to calm himself. His breathing slows, and wetness starts prickling the corner of his eyes, but he tries fiercely to hold it back.

His fingers itch, and he wishes desperately that he had a pad of paper and some pencils so that he could draw all the feelings that are rushing up inside of him. 

Jensen feels the confusion and a weird mix of hope and uncertainty. Those things are normal, considering that they are on a path that they don’t know the ending to. Then there is the rage, the tiny spark of fire that even more people are taking it upon themselves to decide his future. This is also a feeling that seems normal, if not overwhelming.

But the thing that Jensen can’t get over is the feeling of _disappointment_ over the revelation of his Original.

His Original. A powerful, terrifying, faceless man…no, not faceless. His face is _Jensen’s_ face. 

Jensen gasps with the knowledge, and wonders what else from this man is embedded in the strains of his DNA. His ruthlessness? His ability to create life for his own nefarious purposes? Is all of that inside of Jensen just waiting to rear its ugly head when he least expects it?

In a sense he’s lost two fathers in the last few days—the wizened face that he saw as his leader, and the face he sees in the mirror that is suddenly corrupt.

And then what of the child growing inside of him? How could Jensen know if he was capable of taking care of someone? Of giving it what it needs and, not only that, but what it should expect? He is sixteen. He would be a child raising a child in a cold, dark world that once seemed simple in its conformity, but now is prickly with complexity.

Maybe JD is right—maybe it’s better for everyone involved if Jensen just lets go.

A knock on the door breaks him out of his reverie, and he looks up expecting it to be Jared coming to see how he is doing. Instead, it’s Danneel, a small smile twisting her lips as she pushes open the door and slowly enters the room.

“Hi,” Jensen says, his voice soft. He wipes at his face, content to find no betraying streaks of moisture on his cheeks.

“Hi,” she replies, nodding towards the bed as if asking for permission to sit down next to him. He hesitates only for a moment before agreeing. Danneel, out of all of them, has been the kindest to them so far, and he is taking a chance that it’s sincere.

They sit in silence for a moment, Danneel rubbing her hands along her thighs. Jensen sits tucked up close to the wall, his knees to his chest protectively, arms tugging around them. 

Finally, Danneel seems to sense that he is not going to speak first, so she starts.

“Cindy and I grew up together. Our fathers were high level military in Richings’s administration, and we lived on a base with the other families of the big shots. Like so many people, our mothers were unable to carry a baby to term, so they used duplicates to carry us.”

Jensen’s fingers tighten their grip on his legs, but he stays quiet and lets her continue.

“There are two types of breeding facilities. Ones to breed new dupe lines, usually ten at a time of each model to test the strength of the line, and ones to carry children of people who can afford to have their own. That was the type of place that I was conceived in. “ Danneel pauses, swallowing hard, and Jensen can see her struggle with the memory. “We didn’t know this at the time of course. All we’re taught is that there is a hierarchy to the world, and the dupes had their place in helping it survive, for the good of the rest of us. It wasn’t until later, when Cindy and I were in nursing school, that we learned more details about what really was happening.”

“You were a nurse, too?” Jensen asks, voice barely a whisper.

Danneel shakes her head and gives a tiny smile. “Almost, but not quite. In our third year of school, we met JD and Sterling. They were former military, but had deserted to join the rebel factions that had splintered off from Richings’s group. At first it was just about the excitement. Here were these dangerous guys who were preaching something completely opposite the way we were raised. They were talking about liberation and uprising and _justice_ and it was such a foreign concept, but almost _sexy_ at the same time, you know?”

“Did you go with them right away?” Jensen asks, the tension slowly easing from his body. He stays against the wall, but he lets his legs drop from his chest.

“Not right away. Cindy was a total Daddy’s girl and couldn’t believe that her father could possibly be partaking in something that sounded like modern day slavery. She believed what we were told, that the duplicates had their purpose and that purpose was above anything else. I had never thought much about it, frankly, but after being around JD and Sterling for a while, I went to my father and asked about the dupe who carried me. What was she doing now? Did anyone take care of her? Was she loved? Was she even a she?”

“What did he say?”

Danneel blinks a few times, and Jensen wonders at the shine in her eyes. “He laughed and shook his head. Told me to stop worrying about ‘silly things that don’t matter’ and patted me on the head like I was a child asking for candy before bedtime. A week later, I left school with JD and Sterling and never looked back. I haven’t seen my parents in over ten years.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says, and he means it. He knows how it feels it lose someone he cares about, for reasons that are beyond his control.

“Don’t be,” she replies, placing her hand on his knee and squeezing quickly before removing it. “The reason I’m telling you this is because you need to know how messy it can be when you have choices to make. I chose to leave everything I knew to fight for a cause I didn’t quite understand. Cindy chose to stay and attempt to help from the inside, showing kindness where she could. We make mistakes, Jensen, we’re fallible. Sometimes the choices that we make are the wrong ones, but freedom’s in the choosing.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Jensen whispers, chest constricting with an ache that he can’t quite name.

She places her hand gently on his face, wiping away the tears that have struggled so mightily to escape. “And that’s okay, too. Because you will, and when that time comes, you’ll see the beauty in the choice itself. That’ll help you once you’ve made it and have to live with it.”

Jensen’s hand comes up to cover hers and they sit still in the silence for a long moment. He takes the comfort that he sought as a child from Mother Tapping—comfort that he knows now was never genuine. This though, this moment feels right, and he will be forever thankful to Danneel for that.

“Jared’s almost bit my face off when I told him to stay until I got back. Is it alright to send him in here, if only to save my good looks?” Danneel says finally, grinning when it gets a small laugh out of Jensen.

He nods, taking in a deep breath as she kisses his cheek and leaves him alone once more.

==

That night, Jared and Jensen hold each other. Skin to skin—the natural heat of Jared’s body bleeding into Jensen until he is warmed from within. 

Jensen kisses him first, a gentle press of lips that turns deeper when Jared opens his mouth and submits fully to his advances. Their tongues touch, stroke, a slick dance as their teeth clack, and Jared’s hands come up to cradle Jensen’s face with reverence.

They twist in the little cot, Jensen resting back, legs opening easily, and Jared slotting between. Puzzle pieces coming together, simple and by design.

Jared’s hands are warm and smooth, fingers long as they rub down Jensen’s body, along his thighs, and down to his opening. They are slick with something other than spit, and Jensen looks at Jared questioningly until Jared motions towards a small bottle of oil on the nightstand and whispers, “Misha. It was embarrassing,” with a shrug.

Jensen laughs softly, and then moans as Jared’s fingers find their way home. 

“Jensen, my Jensen,” Jared mumbles against his mouth, the words the most beautiful Jensen knows because they mean so much.

It’s slow this night. Intimate. They move together—limbs twisting, pelvises meeting, words panted quietly into mouths. Jared brushes a hand over Jensen’s belly on the way to the hardened shaft of Jensen’s erection, and Jensen climaxes just like that. Jared follows quickly behind as Jensen’s muscles tense and twist.

Afterwards, Jensen lies half on top of Jared, their bodies sticky with sweat and seed but relaxed and lethargic. 

Jared raises Jensen’s hand to his and kisses his knuckles, one by one, as he did on another night that now seems so long ago. 

“No matter what you decide to do, I’ll support you,” Jared says, kisses them again, and then once more.

Jensen tilts his head up, nose grazing over Jared’s jaw as he breathes in the damp scent of him. 

“This is your life, too, Jared.”

Jensen can feel him smiling as he speaks. “And isn’t it wonderful that we get the chance to say something like that?”

Jensen doesn’t have a response to that so he cradles himself deep in Jared’s arms and lets himself stop thinking.

Jensen soon realizes that there is only one other person that truly understands what he and Jared are going through as duplicates starting new lives—and that’s Alona. She’s prickly and quiet most of the time, standoffish in a way that Jensen suspects is a defense mechanism. The others obviously respect her skills both in fighting and with the hologram machine, but Jensen gets a sense that she doesn’t quite fit in.

That is a feeling that Jensen knows all too well, and it’s with this in mind that he goes to her a few nights later to see if she will talk to him.

He finds her in the War Room, hunched over the maps lighting up the table, her pretty face full of concentration. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but this is the first time he has managed to see her alone. He knows that talking to her outside of the stare of the others is the only way to get her to talk freely with him.

“Am I bothering you?” he asks, standing in the doorway and waiting for her permission to enter.

She looks him up and down quickly, a frown on her mouth. “Would it matter if you were?”

“If I say yes, will that help?”

The frown turns into a hint of a smile, and Jensen takes that as a sign to enter. He does, walking over to the table and taking a seat opposite her. 

They sit in silence for a moment, as she goes back to her maps. He can see her eyes flickering back to him, and eventually she gives up the pretense of work. 

“How are you feeling? With the, you know,” she says, nodding towards his stomach without saying the words.

“Physically, I’m fine. No sickness.” He pauses, figuring truth is his only chance at this point. “But, honestly? I’m terrified. Sometimes I’ll forget that something is _inside me_ , and then I’ll remember and it’s like my body doesn’t even belong to me.”

“It didn’t belong to you, not then anyway,” she says, still not looking at him. 

“I was already scared to begin with about the changes that my body were going to go through, what was _possible_ for my body to do. They didn’t teach us that, even when the fever came. They said ‘be good, little one’ and just expected me to understand all the feelings that were suddenly coursing through me.”

“Just wait until you start showing,” she says, finally raising her eyes, a haunted look embedded in them.

“You know what that’s like, don’t you?” he says. It’s a wild guess, but his instinct tells him it’s the right one.

“Three times.” She pauses before continuing, and he’s surprised her voice never wavers. “I carried children for them three times.”

“Did you know what was happening?”

“No.”

“Did you get to see them when they were born?”

“No.”

“Do you know where they ended up?”

“The answer is always going to be no, Jensen. Letting us know what was happening to us was never going to be an option.”

Jensen swallows hard, hand going to his stomach without him even thinking about it. “What happened after the third?”

Alona wipes a hand across her mouth, and closes her eyes briefly before answering. “I couldn’t carry any more, so they were going to ship me to one of the brothels where the prettier models went when they became ‘defective.’”

“And Misha?”

“Misha was my doctor. He rescued me.” Her eyes lost a bit of focus, like she was thinking of another time and place. “He was also the one that did that to me all three times. He overcompensates now because of his guilt but I'm not sure it helps. It’s easy to try and forgive, but you never really forget.”

The tension between them suddenly makes sense, and Jensen wishes he could reach out and offer her comfort. He doesn’t think she would accept it, however, so he keeps his hands pressed against his stomach.

She looks up at him after a moment, really seeing him for the first time in a while. “But it wasn’t like that with you, was it?”

Jensen can’t help the blush and the small smile that breaks out over his face when he remembers stolen kisses and warm nights in Jared’s arms. 

“No, it wasn’t like that at all. Jared and I came together out of love.”

“Well then, you’re already different than the rest of us,” she replies. She smiles briefly and then looks back to the maps, the dismissal obvious but not mean.

He nods absently to himself and stands, heading back to the door from which he came.

“Do you ever wonder where they are? The children you carried?”

He doesn’t know why he asks it. Knows it’s both inappropriate and cruel.

“You would expect me to say yes, but the answer is no. They weren’t mine and had nothing to do with me besides using me as their incubator. That might be selfish, but it’s the only way I get through the day.”

Jensen ponders her answer for a moment, his back still turned so that he can’t see the expression on her face. He thinks of one word out of her response and suddenly realizes exactly what he’s going to do.

He touches his still-flat belly with the tips of his fingers. 

_Mine_ , he thinks.

==

It takes Jensen three days to get up the courage to sit down at a table full of hardened adults and tell them that _he_ is going to be the one to decide his future, and that of his unborn child. 

Jared sits next to him, holding his hand for support. They’ve talked long and hard the past few days, discussing their fears and their hopes, and what they would do if things happen to go wrong. The one thing they decided for certain is that they are going to go through everything together, and face the future as the family unit they never knew to dream of.

“Tell me what our Originals want the baby for,” Jensen asks JD, knowing that he’s been out the past few days doing recon work and trying to throw the State off their trail.

“That baby represents the genetic mixture of the two most powerful men in the State,” JD starts, pausing to let that sink in. “It’s consolidation of power. It’s the future.”

Jensen and Jared glance at each other quickly. They had figured something like that was the reason behind all of this, but hearing it out loud was still numbing. Just knowing that they were only in the world because of some sick war game, all of the loneliness of their childhood to force some kind of government coup.

“Could they try it again? Attempt another duplication?” Jensen asks.

JD shrugs. “I suppose they could, but they don’t have the years to do it with. The State is a ticking time bomb. All it needs is someone to pull the detonator.”

“I want to be that someone.” The room is silent at Jensen’s words, the air heavy.

“I take it you’re going to keep the baby,” JD says, and it’s more statement than question.

Jensen takes Jared’s hand and puts it on top of the table, so everyone can see their intertwined fingers. 

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared, because I am. I don’t know how I’m going to react down the line, or even if me and Jared will make good parents. But I know that this baby is ours. Jared and Jensen’s, not Padalecki and Ackles’s. We’re not going to let them take our family away from us.”

JD takes a long, deep breath, his face a mask of contemplation as he takes in the words. Finally, after a moment, he nods his head and scratches the scruff of his beard. “Well, alright. It sounds like you’ve thought about this so I respect your decision, and I’m going to help you in any way I can.”

“The island,” Danneel interjects, sending the boys a comforting smile.

“Right, the island,” JD echoes. “There’s an island off the coast that is a designated Free State. It’s run by an older duplicate couple named Jim and Loretta. They help people either settle down or move on to another destination. It’s not easy to get to because the State guard patrols the waterway in-between, but the rule goes that if you get one foot on land, they’ll take you in.”

JD pauses, and the confident grin from the night he rescued them comes shining forward. “I’ll get you there, boys. Don’t you worry about that.”

“What do you think?” Jared whispers to Jensen. Jensen just nods his head encouragingly.

“Sounds like it’s worth a chance,” Jensen replies, leaning forward for a quick kiss before turning back to JD. “Before we go though, we want to know if there is anything we can do to help _you_ all.”

“Alona?” JD says, turning their attention to where she is sitting in the corner of the table. Jensen looks at her expectantly, and she smiles briefly.

“There is actually something you can do.”

“Tell me what it is. We owe you our lives,” Jensen agrees.

“I finally figured out a way to hack into the hologram mainframe. All the holograms in every duplicate facility, and in the general public are connected by one giant unit. Hack into that, and we can broadcast whatever we want, all at once, to every hologram in the system.”

Jensen feels a weird mix of dread and excitement in his stomach, as he thinks about growing up watching what he now knows is State propaganda told through the lines and hollows of Commander Richings’s long-dead face.

“What would you broadcast?” Jensen asks. Alona’s face lights up with the biggest smile since he first met her. She’s beautiful and Jensen hopes that helping her with this will enable many more of those grins in the future.

“The State drugs the dupes as they go into their heat cycle so that they don’t feel things like attraction or arousal. They keep it that way so that their insides work for breeding, but in a completely mechanical and detached way. If we can get the dupes to understand that they are just like anyone else, that they can love and lust and _feel_ and procreate because they want to and not because they have to, then they are one step closer to undermining the system that they are propagating.”

“And you boys are a perfect example of that future,” JD throws in. “A real live duplicate family, in living color.”

“And the clones will inherit the Earth,” Sterling says dryly, sipping his whiskey.

Alona tips her chin up and smirks. “We’re the ones who saved it.”

“I’ll do it,” Jensen blurts out quickly, knowing in his gut that it’s the right decision. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say—or if it will do anything in the long run—but he knows that he has to at least try.

Alona looks at him, emotion suddenly warring on her face. “Thank you.”

Jensen just nods, breathing in the moment.

“You’re a lot more aesthetically pleasing than Richings, that’s for sure,” Danneel quips, putting some weird stuff in Jensen’s hair as he sits on the chair they’ve designated for him for the hologram broadcast.

“Not being dead helps,” Misha retorts from the back of the room, feet once again propped up on a flat surface.

“Don’t listen to him, you’re a handsome prince of a child,” Danneel says. Jensen starts giggling at the fact that she’s actually cooing at him.

“Stop! You’re making me nervous,” Jensen says, but he lets Danneel pinch his cheeks and give him a quick kiss on the forehead for good luck.

“You’ll be fine, just speak from the heart,” JD says, coming up to stand behind where Alona is setting up the equipment. 

Jensen takes a deep, shaky breath, and then blows it out and focuses himself in on the light in front of him. He stops and thinks a moment about who is going to be listening to him in a moment; will Genevieve be among them? Will any of this matter?

“Whenever you’re ready,” Alona says, and Jensen looks straight ahead and smiles.

“Hello. My name is Jensen, and I’m a duplicate. It took me sixteen years of my life to finally know who and what I am—an individual, with needs and wants of my very own. For sixteen years, I was known only as Ackles-1, but that wasn’t who I was. To all of you listening right now, to the duplicates who don’t know their own strength or the general populace who don't truly know what is going on—let me tell you a story.”

Jensen smiles at Jared over Alona’s shoulder, and Jared winks.

“This is just the beginning.”

**  
3 Years Later   
**

“Genny! Come here so Papa can feed you.”

Jensen watches with fondness as his toddler bumbles over to him from her spot in the sandbox. There are traces of sand all over her long, light brown hair, and her bangs are sticking up all over the place just like Jared’s. She gives a dimpled smile and holds out her arms to him.

“Oof, you’re getting so big,” Jensen says with an exaggerated groan, picking her up in his arms and squeezing her until she giggles herself silly. He pops her on his lap and pulls the bag full of tiny pink apple pieces out of the pack on the bench next to him.

She’s barely two pieces into it—juice all over her fingertips—when Jared comes running up from behind them and leans over to hug them both at the same time.

“Tell Daddy he’s squishing me,” Jensen protests, leading his head back so Jared can drop a soft kiss on his mouth. 

“You love it,” Jared grins, coming round to the front and snatching their daughter right out of Jensen’s arms. He dances a squealing Genevieve around, and Jensen just shakes his head and laughs.

Jared’s just back from work, where he teaches guitar and piano to the children of other duplicates that were rescued by the rebels and relocated to the island that has become a refuge for the liberated. 

Jensen—while raising little Genevieve—has become increasingly involved in the abolition movement, partly through educating the other duplicates about their rights as human beings and not just blunt tools and broodmares created by the elite. The rebels have done a lot of work in the past few years, and the public sentiment has started to turn against the government. Entire pockets of the State have been liberated, and many of the duplicates freed have joined the cause. 

It’s a long road and a hard process. But for once in his life, Jensen feels like he’s accomplishing something good. It’s only a matter of time.

Jared swings Genevieve around a few more times and then collapses them both on the bench with a loud huff. Jensen looks over and remembers the other amazing thing he accomplished.

In the end, keeping the baby was the best decision they ever made, but for a long time it was a struggle. At times, Jensen felt like his body was betraying him—a foreign entity cruelly mocking him with the changes happening against his will. Misha and Danneel stayed on the island with them until Genevieve was born. A familiar presence during a time of great change and upheaval. 

They decided to stay and raise their family on the island. It became a way station of sorts for the newly freed, some staying for only a fortnight and some settling down to join the growing community they had created. 

Genny is thriving and happy, much like her parents. Ultimately there is no greater gift than that.

The future is never certain, but now, at least, it’s theirs. 

 

**The End**


End file.
